


Rogue

by logans_girl2001



Series: Vampire Series [1]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: Miami, Dark Blue, NCIS, Numb3rs (TV), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 129,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: Dean Bendis is a 1000+ year-old Vampire and Carter Shaw is his Mate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The following is based very, very, very loosely on Bev's Sylum Clan Series. Thanks to Dru for the French translations, sometimes Babel Fish just doesn't cut it, ya know? While writing this, I learned that male Highlanders didn't wear kilts in the 9th century. They wore a tunic-like garment called a léine.

The call from John Sheppard was very much a surprise. Last I'd heard he was off somewhere that I don't have the security clearance to know about, doing stuff that's 'need to know' and I so obviously _don't_ need to know. Except that I do. Know, that is. I know where he's been and what he's been doing because there is very little that Nick Stokes, leader of Sylum Clan, doesn't know when it comes to government secrets. Secrets he shares with all the members of his clan, just so we’ll know who to trust.

So here I am, sitting on a tattered old couch in one of the few vampire friendly bars in LA, nursing a beer while I await the arrival of my clan brother. While it is no longer illegal to be a vampire, there are still some who think it should be. Normally I wouldn't care, I'm still passing so I don't have to worry about going to vampire friendly places, but I'm not sure if John's passing or not so I figure it would be best if we meet in a place where neither of us has to worry.

Looking around the bar I picked, I have to wonder if I have a thing for abandoned warehouses. Surely I should worry that not only have I chosen to meet John in a warehouse that has been transformed into one of the hottest places in LA, but that I live and work in an old warehouse.

The space still looks like the warehouse it used to be. The new owners didn't change much. The exposed cinder block walls have been painted with day-glo so that they'll glow in the black lights that are used during after hours, the furniture is junk yard specials, and yet they're very sturdy. One can indulge with a donor and not worry that the couch or chair will give out under you. But the bar, and the fixtures behind it, is brand spanking new, as are the tables scattered along the edge of the dance floor.

Being an eleven hundred year old vampire has its advantages and even bigger _disadvantages_. And if I know John Sheppard, and his Sire Nick Stokes, the biggest disadvantage is going to be discussed rather soon, whether or not I want to.

Before I can get too far into today's brooding session, a tall lanky figure in jeans, a well-worn t-shirt and an even more well-worn flannel shirt plops down in the chair on the other side of the small table in front of the couch I've claimed as mine. Using the bottle in my hand, I push its twin across the table's surface toward my 'guest' by way of greeting.

"I must admit, I'm surprised you agreed to see me," John begins after taking a long swallow of his beer. "Last time we spoke you sounded like you'd rather I never graced your presence again."

"Yeah, well." I shrug. "What can I say? Considering where you've been the past five years, I figured I owed it to you to put that little argument behind me."

He chokes on his next drink. " _Little_ argument? You're serious?" The look on his face is priceless, and I don't even try to hide the smirk caused by my barb hitting its mark. His eyes narrow on my face. "I hate you, you know," he hisses.

"Yeah, I know," I chuckle, and eventually he joins in.

He even goes so far as to lift his nose into the air. "One would think that someone as old as you would be beyond such childish things," he scolds, but I can tell he thinks he’s being funny.

I, on the other hand, fail to see the humor. "Don't look now, Jean-Luc, but your nobility is showing," I growl. John and I are as different as two people can be. And not all our differences are because we were born over six hundred years apart and in two different countries. John was born into a noble family and became one of his king's personal guards. My parents were both common, and I had to fight for everything I ever got, even my position as a powerful laird's second-in-command. _Especially_ my position as my laird's second-in-command.

He sets his bottle down on the table and settles back in his chair with a sigh. "And your prejudice is showing. We've been through this before. I do not think I'm better than you because my parents happened to be of the nobility. Despite their station in life, my parents were just as poor as yours. My father was never good with money, and after –" 

I don't let him finish. "This is something we've discussed before and is something about which we will always disagree."

John’s face says that while he may have a lot of practice with argumentative people, it never becomes any more pleasant. "Seriously, Dean, why must you be so difficult?"

And if he thinks I’m going to let up on him, he’s got another think coming. "Carter asks that same question at least three times a day."

"Only three? You must be mellowing in your old age, Old Man." Finally, a smile from him.

"Nah, Carter's just finally getting used to me." The smile falls off his face when I don't take the bait.

John eyeballs me as he picks his beer back up. "Still haven't told him, huh?"

"This from the man who has a narcissistic, ego-maniacal prick for a Mate." I just can’t resist the jab. It's a low blow, but I'm still smarting over the whole Carter not believing in vampires thing. John's always been touchy about his Mate, and I've heard he's been even more so this time around.

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "At least I told mine and then Bonded with him."

"Mine's a stubborn bastard that I think doesn't even like me some days."

"And Rodney isn't stubborn? You'll have to meet him sometime. I was positive he hated me for most of our first year out there."

Well, at least he knows where I’m coming from. I can’t help but be a little bit curious, or maybe I’m just hoping he’ll toss me a bone so I don’t actually have to ask him for advice. "So what happened to turn him around?"

"He realized that I wasn't going anywhere." He pauses to take another swig of his beer. "I have to admit that when I first looked up and saw Constance looking back at me from _his_ face I was horrified. It wasn't until he almost drowned in a downed jumper that I finally decided to get over his annoying personality."

I just shake my head. I've heard stories about Rodney McKay and none of them show the man in a good light. "Don't see how you could. I know of Mates that hate each other so much they refuse to actually Bond and live as far from each other as they possibly can."

He nods his agreement, signaling one of the girls to bring us more beer. "So, does anyone on your team know you're a vampire?" It's the question I've been dreading since he asked if I've told Carter he's my Mate yet.

"One. Carter's latest stray. She saw me vamp-out at a scene and when she didn't run screaming from the room, I told her a bit of my story." As little as possible, actually. I don't like talking about my past, it's not pretty, and my Turning was just the icing on a very nasty cake.

"Then you slept with her, right?"

It never ceases to amaze me how prudish he can be. Considering he was born at a time when very few people actually went to their marriage bed a virgin. With a chuckle I ask “And you've never slept with a Chosen while feeding?”

"Not when my Mate was _right there_!" he counters. 

I tilt my head in concession. "I don't think he sees me that way, though."

"And that makes it okay?" Again with the shock that I could be such a randy horn dog.

"John," I start with a chuckle. "You know as well as I do that a donor usually enjoys a feeding more if sex is involved."

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Stay on point, Dean."

I grin cheekily at him. "Why're you here, Jean-Luc? Last I heard you never were one to be at Nico's beck and call."

"And I'm not. I'm currently on leave and staying in San Francisco, and Nick called and asked me to see how you're doing. Seems you haven't stayed in touch like you're supposed to."

That's the worst thing he could have said. I jump up, fighting the urge to vamp-out and punch his pretty face. "I'm not one of his clan members. He can't order me around."

John stands much slower and shows just what he's learned in the past five years stationed in a galaxy far, far away where he has to play nice with people he would rather shoot. "He's aware that you've never made an official alliance with Sylum, but you did agree to the same terms as Riddick. You're to check in once a month, deep cover or not."

I give in to the rage building at the audacity of Nico Meridius and punch the nearest wall. "Riddick has been tamed by his new Mate. He's grown weak in complacency." Luckily the patrons and employees of this bar are used to my explosive temper so no one does anything more than just look over at where John and I are standing. "I only agreed to those terms so I wouldn't have to worry about hunters coming after me."

John steps in close and whispers "I think we should take this somewhere more private." Then he takes my arm, and I allow him to pull me from the bar, across the dark parking lot, and over to the low-slung sports car he's driving that amazingly hasn’t been completely stripped while we were inside. It’s a very, very nice car. 

Giving a low whistle, I climb into the passenger seat. "Tell me you're not just renting this 'cause I'd be very willing to take care of it for you when you head back to wherever the fuck you've been for the past five years."

He chuckles while starting the car with a quick twist of his wrist, and in no time we’re on the road and John’s reminding me how much he loves flying. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's a rental. I'm officially stationed in Antarctica, remember? No need for a car there."

"You have a car in storage, though, right?"

He rolls his eyes, downshifting to avoid rear-ending the idiot that just cut us off, causing the car to growl its displeasure at the lower gear. "You're older than me. Surely you have enough money for a car of your own." He glances at me before swinging the car sharply to the left and flooring it to get around the traffic jam so he can make a sharp right turn at the light, earning us some very pissed off honking and rude gestures from the cars waiting for the jam to clear, before getting hit by on-coming traffic. "Oh, I see," he laughs when I don’t say anything. "You just want to drive someone else's car. 'Drive it like you stole it, bone it like you own it', right?"

"Something like that," I mutter, impressed at how well he's handling the car. 

With just a little direction from me, he's soon turning into the large freight elevator of the restored warehouse where I live. With a flick of his wrist, he kills the engine, and we both climb from the car. Stepping over to the doors, I pull them closed, then reach for the controls and hit the up button.

"Must be nice to be able to drive your car right to your front door like this," he quips.

I look back over my shoulder to find him leaning back against the car with his arms and ankles crossed. "It is. When we get to my floor, you're gonna have to pull the car into my space. The floor right below mine is the one we use as our base."

John's eyebrows climb his forehead. "Carter aware you live that close?"

I shrug, walking to the other side of the elevator in preparation of opening the doors. "If he is, he hasn't said anything about it."

He snickers a bit, while getting back in the car and starting it back up. As soon as the lower half of the door is out of the way, John slowly drives the car into my apartment. It's his turn to give a low whistle of appreciation when he steps from the car and gets his first good look at where I live. "Never would know this is in here based on the outside."

The first thing people notice upon entering my place is that everything is white, followed closely by the frosted glass brick wall separating the living room from the bedroom. To the right of the elevator is a 72-inch plasma mounted on the cinder brick wall. To the left, behind a bar, is the kitchen area. Two high-backed stools are set in front of the bar on the living room side. The sitting area is designed to encourage people to sit and get comfortable.

"Kinda the point," I say, purposely rubbing against him when I walk past on my way to the kitchen area.

He just sighs. "I'm Bonded, Dean."

"Does it really matter?"

"Does to me."

I want to sigh, but manage to restrain myself. "Oh, right. I forgot you're one of those guys."

"So were you, if I remember correctly."

"Low blow, Jean-Luc," I growl threateningly. But he has a point. When I was married, back before I was Turned, I was faithful to my wife. Something that very few men actually were. Heaving a deep sigh, I let it drop. "But point taken. Want something to drink?"

"You got any A-positive?" he asks, wandering around taking in the understated richness of my living space.

"Good one, John," I snicker, opening the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer. I open both bottles and walk back to the living room. "So," I begin, handing one to John. "I thought you hated being Nick's errand boy."

“That’s Lieutenant Colonel Errand Boy to you,” John replies a little haughtily, then waits for me to snort before he tilts his bottle back and drinks deeply. "Normally I do, but like I said, he knows I'm in the area and since you've been ignoring the conditions you agreed to…" he trails off with a shrug.

I sit on the arm of one of the chairs nearest the kitchen area and do my best impression of a grumpy gargoyle. Talking about Sylum tends to do that to me. "And I told you, I only agreed to that to keep hunters off my ass. I'm a rogue vampire wandering around Nico's backyard. Having the 'protection' of Sylum comes in handy."

"So you thought being affiliated with Sylum would keep the assassins from coming after you? I've discovered it has the opposite effect."

I shrug and empty my bottle. "My job is harder if I'm constantly watching out for an enemy looking to end my miserable existence."

To give John credit, he actually looks chagrined and lowers his gaze to the floor. "Nick says that if you miss another check-in, he'll remove his protection."

I can't help it, the thought that Nico Meridius thinks he can bring me to heel with a threat like that has me laughing so hard, I fall off the chair arm I've been perched on.

John doesn’t share my amusement. "Seriously, Dean. I don't want to see anything happen to you. Although, based on what's happened to the ruling members of Sylum in the last several years, not being associated with Sylum just might keep you alive longer."

Picking myself up off the floor, I resume my place on the arm of my chair. "Aw, Jean-Luc. I didn't know you care."

He rolls his eyes and finishes his beer, and when it’s done he just stares at nothing, voice quiet and eyes far away. "If not for you, I'd most likely have killed Nick that day." And he would have, too.

The day in question happened back in 1673. He'd just found out that a soul can come back as the opposite sex when he bumped into a man on the street that had his wife's soul. While Nick had told him that Constance would return, he failed to tell him that part, and John didn't take it very well. He was raised in a time when homosexuality was starting to become taboo. With the help of Tim Speedle and Tony DiNozzo, I was able to pull John off Nick and get him upstairs where the three of us showed him that having sex with a man is just as wonderful an experience as sex with a woman.

I grab his empty bottle on my way back to the kitchen. After depositing the bottles in the trash, I lean against the counter while silence reigns for several minutes. I know he's gnawing on something and that it'll take him longer than I want to get it out. "Alright, Jean-Luc, spit it out," I mutter with a sigh.

"What?" He seems genuinely surprised that I can read him so well. Oh, how soon he forgets the hundreds of years we've known each other.

I raise one brow. "Whatever it is you're over there chewing on. Spit it out before you choke."

He shifts in his seat. "First off, stop calling me Jean-Luc."

"It is your name."

"Not anymore, it's not." The look he gives me proves just how he became a Captain of the Guard with the Musketeers and shows me how he's managed to keep all the Marines that serve under him in line. "Second, what's with the attitude toward Riddick all of a sudden? I thought the two of you were thick as thieves."

A derisive snort escapes. "Last time him and his pussy of a Mate came to town to see the Epps brothers, I called Riddick to see if he wanted to raise a little hell. He said he couldn't because his lame-ass Mate would stick out like a sore thumb and even if he didn't, he's one of those goody-goody cops that frowns on all kinds of law breaking."

John just about chokes on his laughter. "You're a cop too, Dean. You should be against law breaking as well."

"Yeah, well," I grumble, rubbing one hand across the back of my neck. "Sometimes I need to let off a little steam, ya know?"

"By breaking the law?"

"By coming _close_ to breaking the law. But to get back on topic, have you ever met Riddick's Mate?"

I’m sure he notices my rather pathetic attempt to change the subject, but he lets it slide. "Once. Couple of years ago when we got kicked out of Atlantis. While we were back on Earth, Nick called me home so that Rodney could do the whole formal oath thing. Every member was called in for it. And everyone came, except you." Damn, was hoping he wouldn't have noticed my absence.

I sigh and try to come up with an excuse that won’t leave me feeling guilty. Riddick was my friend and fellow troublemaker, although nowadays I don’t know if I could still say that about him. "I was deep under. Couldn't get free." I can tell he sees it for the lie it is. Or rather, the half-truth. I was in the middle of a case, one that would have fallen apart if I had suddenly disappeared for even one day, let alone the four that a trip to Sylum Manor requires but if I had truly wanted to I could have found a way to go without jeopardizing the case. "But you see what a wuss he is, right?"

"Careful, Dean. Your jealousy is showing." He settles back in his chair and crosses one knee over the other.

"Jealous, my ass," I mumble, shifting nervously against the counter and rubbing one hand over my face.

"How long's it been, Dean?" His voice is quiet. Almost as if he's afraid I'll shatter into a million pieces if he speaks too loud. I won’t even try to pretend to not know what he's talking about.

With a heavy sigh, I admit, "Just over a thousand years." 

With my hand over my eyes, I still don’t have to look at him to know that he’s wincing but then immediately trying to cover it up with some kind of sympathy. "Dean. I happen to know you've been counting the days, right down to the minute."

I sigh, push myself upright and walk back into the living area to drop down into the chair facing the one John's occupying. "One thousand ten years, six months, six days. I refuse to give you the hours."

The look on his face is nothing short of painful. "I'm sorry. Truly. I know how hard it was for me in-between each of Rodney's lives and to not see your mate for a thousand years…" he trails off with a shudder. 

"Yeah. Now you know why I'm hesitant to tell Carter." I don't like to think about the last time I saw my Mate, the first time I saw him as someone else.

"You can't let that stop you, Dean. What if Carter gets killed? Huh? You ready to wait another thousand years to find him again?"

His words bring back memories of a case from a few weeks ago, but I do my best to school my reaction before he can see just how big of a nerve he’s struck. "I see your point. A few weeks ago there was a case. Carter went under with Jaimie. She was supposed to be the bait, but Ty overheard the suspects talking about raping her so Carter changed places with her. I was their driver, they were posing as a rich married couple. I had to sit by and watch as he got punched in the face and dragged off to somewhere I couldn't follow because I had no idea where they were headed." My eyes sting with tears I refuse to shed.

"If you won't tell your Mate who he is, then I suppose I should take you for a good feeding. How long's it been, anyway?"

I shrug. "A day. Maybe day and a half."

"Then let's go." He claps his hands, but before he can even begin to get up, his cell rings. He glances at the caller ID then shoots me the look of a man whose other half is tugging on their leash a tad too often, and I decide to not listen in. "Hey," he says into the phone, his voice soft and loving. "Yeah?" A pause. "Sounds good." Another pause. "No, still on clan business. And before you ask, it'll be a couple of days before I get back." The next pause is accompanied by a wistful smile, then he laughs out loud. God, I forgot how annoying his laugh is. "Not sure that's such a good idea." This pause is punctuated with him rolling his eyes. "'Cause he won't really fit in, that's why." Whatever is being said has his eyes opening wide. "In that case, yes, take him _and_ Teyla with you. Just don't forget to mention –" The person he's talking to obviously finishes that sentence. "Je t'aime, mon coeur," he whispers before hanging up.

As deadpan as I can muster, I remind him, "You do remember I can speak French, right?"

"Yes. But Rodney doesn't know that." He stands, stretches with a satisfied groan, his spine cracking. "Shall we go?"

Nodding my agreement, I stand up just as my cell rings. Growling softly, I check the caller ID, then sigh when I see it's Carter. "Speak," I bark into the phone. 

_"I need you,"_ Carter says just as sharply before hanging up. _God, what I wouldn't give for that to be true._

It takes me several seconds to realize he just hung up on me, and when I lift my eyes to John's, we have one of those silent conversations that only people who have known each other a long time seem to have. "He needs to see me." I head toward the elevator. "C'mon, I'll show you another place where you can park the car."

We get the car moved with a minimum of fuss and head back up the elevator to see Carter, who doesn't appear to be happy to see us.

"What the fuck is the meaning of this, Dean?" he demands the moment we step into the light filled space.

I look around at John, both brows raised."Uh, he's just a friend." I turn back to Carter.

"What part of 'top secret base' don't you get, Bendis?" Wow, I haven't seen him this pissed in over eleven hundred years.

"Trust me when I say that his clearance level trumps yours."

"We. Don't. Exist. Or have you forgotten that?" He steps closer and is almost nose-to-nose with me, and it’s everything I can do to not grab his face with both hands and kiss him.

Instead I do what Carter expects me to do and I keep arguing. "He's Air Force. Stationed somewhere far, far away. So who the fuck is he gonna tell?"

"That's not the point!"

"It is the point!" He's always been able to raise my ire, and now is no different. I just wish I could end this argument the way I used to, with Adair. "He showed up on my doorstep just as I was leaving to come here. I couldn't just leave him to cool his heels at my place. That would've been rude."

"Then he should have stayed in the car!" When he gets angry his eyes sparkle like crystals and take me back to a time when it was my right to wrap my hand around the back of his neck and shove my tongue down his throat.

"That would have been just as rude, Carter. I haven't seen John in years." Close to fifty to be exact. "And when he called and said he was on leave stateside, I saw no reason to refuse to see him. We are between cases right now, aren't we?"

Carter presses his lips together and turns his narrow-eyed stare on John. "You willing to vouch for him?"

"I am."

Carter nods. "Fine. And yes. I called to tell you that we've officially got a couple of days of downtime."

I don't even stop the smile that lifts one corner of my mouth. "I knew we'd just finished a big case and there was nothin' pendin'. So, if that's all, I'm just gonna…" I let the sentence trail off, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb.

"No, that's not all," he says, reaching out to grab my arm when I take a step back. 

The instant his fingers curl around my wrist, I feel the bond flash and I flare my nostrils to catch all his scent as a memory washes over me. The memory of the last time I had sex with him.

It was the night before I married our laird's sister. Highland Scots have a lot of rules about what makes a man, a man, and one of them is that while it's fine to have a male lover before you marry, once the vows have been taken, only women may grace your bed. Until your wife dies, that is. 

It was traditional for the wedding night watch to be kept while in the company of one's male friends and family members with plenty of stout ale, hearty food and even heartier wenches for the married men. But for my wedding night watch, Adair convinced the men to let us keep the watch alone; just the two of us. 

While our relationship wasn't a secret, exactly, it wasn't something that we felt comfortable letting others know about. Mostly because he was twenty years my senior and my better by birth.

Sex between us was never gentle. We had to grab moments when we could, so it was usually hard and rough, with both of us leaving each encounter battered and bruised. As Highland Scots, the bruises and scratches were never out of place. That said, that last night wasn't like the other times. We didn't remove our clothes, we never did except that one time by the loch, but we had been swimming and so were already naked, just raised our léinte up out of our way. 

I always bottomed. I think it was because Adair was older, despite my being his commanding officer. That night, we started out with me on my back and then Adair rolled us so that I sat astride his hips, his large calloused hands squeezing my ass cheeks under my léine. After he recovered from his orgasm, Adair grabbed my face and while looking deep into my eyes said, "Tha gaol agam ort, Dean." He'd never said that before. Never even hinted he felt that way toward me. I said it back, we kissed some more and, while most definitely not snuggling afterward, talked about how we wished we could keep fucking each other after my marriage.

"Dean?" Carter's voice, with its sharp edge of concern, pulls me back to the present. I blink a couple of times, bringing his face back into focus. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere. Sorry about spacing out like that. Guess I'm tired." I twist my arm out of his grip, only mildly surprised when he lets me. "Is there anything else?"

"Don't bring strangers here. Ever again. Understood?"

"Yeah. Can I go now?" Not being able to tell him the whole truth makes my voice sharper than I intend.

"I suppose. You got something you want to say?" He lifts one brow, almost like he knows my secret and is just daring me to finally let him in on it.

 _Yeah. I was born in 877 and was your lover for twelve years until I married our laird's sister. In 910 we both died, but I was Turned into a vampire. I have been searching the world for you for over a thousand years because you're my Soul Mate._ Of course I can't tell him any of that due to the fact that he doesn't believe in vampires. "No, I'm good."

He inclines his head in acknowledgement. "Then be careful with your friend there. He looks like he knows trouble intimately." A grin crosses my face at how easy Carter can read John.

I glance over my shoulder to where John has retreated a respectable distance. We share a grin that I turn on Carter. "Yeah, John seems to be something of a trouble magnet." I begin to walk away. "See ya Tuesday?"

"Dean?" His voice is surprisingly soft, and I stop and look over my shoulder at him. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat, I nod and manage to say 'yeah' in a voice that sounds normal.

"Just reminding ya that my door's always open."

"Yeah, thanks, Carter." Once again I start to walk away.

Being a vampire sucks rocks sometimes. Like now. I can hear the sigh he releases when I don't send John on his way and turn around to spill my deepest, darkest secret.

John actually waits until we're in the elevator before saying anything. "You're a dumbass, Dean McGillis," he mutters. "You had the perfect opening."

"It's not the right time."

"Not the – Oh, for the love of God!" He reaches up and slaps the back of my head.

I turn to growl at him, and he just glares right back. "Now's not the right time, Jean-Luc! Trust me when I say I'll know the right time. You didn't rush into telling and Bonding with your Mate, did you?"

My barb hits home, and he narrows his eyes at me, his lips compressed into a thin line, but he doesn't say anything else about it.

When we get to the car, I hold my hand out for the keys. "I know the perfect place."

"Great. Give me directions."

"It's just easier for me to drive."

"It's a rental, Dean." He's growing annoyed with me, I can tell.

"What happened to 'drive it like you stole it'?" I just grin my most charming grin.

He rolls his eyes, slaps the keys into my palm. "If you damage it, you will be paying for it."

"Fine," I assure him, climbing into the driver's seat. "As you said earlier, I have more money than you so I have a feeling it won't hurt my account balance."

He buckles up; making sure the shoulder strap is nice and tight. "I don't know about that. Hazard pay for serving in Atlantis is crazy. And what am I going to spend it on way out in Pegasus where American money means nothing."

"Then how do you pay for the things you need?" When he doesn't answer, I turn to look at him and find him staring at me, mouth hanging open. "Barter system, right. How stupid can I be?" His response is a huff of humorless laughter.

I start the car, throw it into reverse, gun it out of the space and with a squeal of the tires, leave the garage, heading out of town.

"What time is your flight out?" I ask conversationally, at complete odds with how I’m trying to outdo his batshit crazy fighter pilot driving from earlier.

"I don't have a flight out."

I stifle a sigh at what that means. "Nico sent the jet to bring you down here." It’s a statement, not a question.

"Yeah," he answers it anyway. "Look, Dean. If you want him to lay off, you might want to consider swearing fidelity."

"What, so he can demand to hear from me every week instead of every month? I think not."

"Actually," he drawls, pressing back against the seat when I narrowly miss a semi while entering the 5. "He'd only require a call once, maybe twice, a year if you were to become an official member."

I can't stop the shit-eating grin from crossing my face at how he's trying to not let me see that my driving is scaring the shit outta him. Considering how much he loves going fast, the way he's acting now is a bit of a surprise.

"Still think I'll pass, but thank him for the offer, would ya?" I downshift to avoid a slower moving truck. "When does the car have to be back to the rental agency?"

"Late Sunday."

"Excellent. That gives us nearly two whole days." Out of the corner of my eye I see him throw me a confused look. "The place I want to go is a coupla hours outside the city."

The rest of the drive is made in silence, but it's the good kind, the kind that is only possible when the people involved have known each other for decades, or in our case, centuries.

Finally, we get to the club, and I see John's eyes widen for a second before he catches himself. His reaction is perfectly natural. The bar isn't in the best of neighborhoods, in fact it's in one of the worst I've ever seen and that's saying a lot. I park the car and have to nudge him to get out.

"Will it be alright?" he asks, swallowing audibly.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Ya see those two punks over there?" I indicate a couple of troublemakers leaning against the hood of a car about ten yards away. "They know what I am and will keep an eye on the car, make sure nothin' happens to it."

He gives a nod of grudging assent and follows me across the parking lot toward the rundown building that houses one of the largest vampire bars in Southern California.

The foyer keeps one guessing as to what's behind the large stainless steel doors by being decorated in a very understated manner which makes one think they've stepped into a sophisticated club for the upper class. Perched on a tiny stool behind a podium, is a pretty girl wearing a simple black dress.

"Dean!" she squeals, sliding off the stool and bouncing over to give me a hug and a kiss that I normally would have allowed her to deepen. 

Pulling back, I grin at her, showing my fangs. "Amanda, my dear. How are you?"

She giggles, blushes and ducks her head shyly. "Much better now that you're here. I get off at 4." She winks and bites her lower lip seductively.

John coughs softly behind me, reminding me of his presence. "This is Jean-Luc Shepard," I make the introductions.

She holds out her hand for him to shake, but he grips her fingers and turns her hand over to kiss her knuckles. "French?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle." John's voice is as smooth as butter.

Amanda giggles again. It’s perfectly obvious that John hasn't lost his touch in charming other people. "Comment allez-vous?"

"Je vais très bien. Et vous?"

"Bien, merci."

John gives her a grin that beats mine in the charming department. "Bien."

"I'm sorry but I have to ask," Amanda begins, but John doesn't let her finish, just shifts his grip on her hand, then lifts her fingers to his neck so she can feel that he doesn't have a pulse. When he releases her hand, she picks up a stamp and uses it on both our hands, leaving the word 'vampire' behind.

When we open the door, loud rock music bombards our ears. John shakes his head a bit and then seems to figure out how to turn down the volume on his hearing. I prod him to step over the threshold and chuckle at the way he gapes at the view spread out before him. The lights are down almost too low for humans but just about every surface has a high shine to it, which reflects what little light there is. There is a bar the length of the wall opposite the door we just stepped through. Between us and the bar are several tables, all occupied at the moment. To our left are booths and private alcoves. To our right is a dance floor. There is an upper level that can be reached via two staircases, one at each end of the bar.

John stiffens and growls low in his throat. "What?" I ask, stepping up close to see if I can figure out what has his hackles raised.

"Rodney's here," he answers just as a balding man leans over the railing to the upper level. From the way his eyes widen upon seeing John, I'm guessing he's Rodney McKay, John's Mate.

I can feel the anger pouring off John in waves. "He did tell you he was coming here, right?"

"Not exactly," he huffs, heading toward the stairs to our left. "He didn't say he was coming here, just that he was going to a rougher than usual club."

"And you told him to bring someone with him, right?"

"Yeah." His gaze hasn't left the man who is still hanging over the railing.

"Well?" I prompt, poking him in the back.

He looks around and then points at a large man with dreadlocks sitting on a couch with a lapful of what appears to be a biker chick nibbling on his neck. 

"Is he…?" I'm not sure how to ask if the man is human or not.

"Ronon's human. Well, actually, he's Satedan," John informs me with a shrug.

"Satedan?"

"The name of his planet. But he's just as human as we were before we were Turned."

I nod in understanding, even though I don't really and he can't see it. "I believe you also mentioned a name. Teyla, I think."

"I don't see her. I'm hoping she's upstairs with Rodney."

We climb the stairs and the man I'm guessing is Rodney, is standing by the railing giving off an air of defiance. If Teyla is a gorgeous warrior woman with warm honey colored skin, then she is indeed upstairs watching over John's Mate.

"You didn't tell me you were coming here." John marches up to the man and gets right in his face.

"I did too!" he doesn't back down.

"Wow, Jean-Luc. He has Connie's backbone, doesn't he?" I tease, not even fighting my laughter.

They both turn to glare at me. "I thought you were going to go to one of the Sylum owned clubs in San Francisco." John turns back to the man before him.

"This one isn't owned by Sylum?" 

"Not exactly," I interrupt. "It _is_ associated with the clan, but not owned directly. Members will visit but that's all." Now all three of them are staring at me. "What? It's not like this conversation is private since it's in a very public place."

"John, who is your friend?" the warrior woman asks, her melodious voice reminding me unexpectedly of my mother.

John remembers himself. "Dean Bendis, this is my Mate, Dr. Rodney McKay, and one of our Chosen, Teyla Emmagen."

Rodney, Teyla and I share a nod of greeting. I have always admired the human body, both male and female, and right now I'm admiring Teyla's body. John catches my admiring glances.

"She was fed from just recently."

Licking my lips, I run my gaze down her figure again, taking in the high firm breasts, her slightly rounded belly visible by the open lower halves of her shirt and the jeans resting so low on her hips I have a feeling one firm tug would have them slipping off. "Don't have to feed to have sex with her, Johnny-boy."

"She's married," Rodney informs me. I just shrug 'cause that doesn't bother me in the least. "And has a baby." That doesn't bother me either but the look she's giving me does. 

While I'm fairly certain I could take her, I don't want to hurt her so I decide to look elsewhere for the companionship I'm craving. Looping one arm over John's shoulders I turn to Rodney. "So how about the three of us take this somewhere more private."

Rodney rolls his eyes, mutters something about 'Captain Kirk' and informs me in an extremely haughty voice "You're not my type."

I turn to blink at John. "I'm not his type," I repeat in a bland tone.

"You're not his type," John confirms.

Turning back to Rodney, I pout at him. "Why not?"

"I find you too arrogant." If his nose gets any higher, he'll be staring at the ceiling.

"I find that beyond funny coming from you."

Rodney's eyes narrow on my face. "And what the fuck does that mean?"

"Ooo, Jean-Luc. Your Mate has a dirty mouth!"

John chokes on his laughter. "Actually, Rodney's not into threesomes."

"Oh. Well. Why didn't he just say so?"

John shrugs, almost dislodging my arm. "He's always talking and yet he hardly ever says anything."

Rodney glares at John, clamping his mouth shut.

"Um, excuse me?" a young female voice interrupts from the direction of the couch.

"And just who are you?" I ask the young girl sitting on the couch. She looks to be about sixteen, seventeen at the oldest and is dressed very inappropriately for a girl her age; short black leather skirt that shows off way too much leg and a belly-shirt that is cut so low I can see the top edge of her areolas. 

"I was feeding from her when I felt John enter the club." I look at Rodney, prompting him to give more information. "She's legal." He sounds like he's not quite so sure about that.

Turning my gaze back to the girl, I can smell her fear as well as see it plain as day on her face. Once you’ve been a cop, it sticks with you, and little lawbreakers like this one always seem to have a special talent for knowing if there’s a badge nearby. I do nothing to make her forget that notion and instead ask her, "Legal as in eighteen or twenty-one?"

She puts her nose in the air. "Twenty-one."

"Mmhm. Sure you are."

She gapes at me. "I am over eighteen." Her voice warbles, another sign that she's lying.

"Yeah. No. Get out before I arrest you as a minor in possession." I flick my head in the direction of the exit.

"But," she tries to argue. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click of her teeth before huffing to her feet and flouncing from the area. I turn to watch her leave and once she's on the other side of the front door, I turn back to my companions.

Rodney's staring at me openmouthed. "I can't believe you just did that!" he screeches. 

"This is a twenty-one and over bar, McKay. She was breaking the law by being in here and you were breaking the law by feeding from her. The age restrictions on donors are there for a reason. Besides, since this is a vampire bar, I'm sure she wasn't the only one willing to provide you with a meal." The look that crosses his face tells me that he didn't approach the girl, she approached him. "You've never had a woman approach you for anything, have you?" The way he flicks his eyes over to John gives me the answer to my question. "From now on, don't agree to feed until you've verified the person's age." Rodney's eyes have gone wide, and I'm fairly sure the last person to yell at him like that was John.

But before I can say anything more, a new voice speaks from behind me. "Excuse me, Detective Bendis?" 

Turning around I find myself face-to-face with a very pretty blonde wearing a skirt that stops just above her knees and a men's dress shirt, unbuttoned with the tail ends tied in a sailor's knot beneath breasts appear to be the exact cup size I prefer. "May I help you?" My voice has taken on the sultry note that usually yields the results I want, namely the person it's directed at being instantly willing to go somewhere private with me.

"I'm Lisa, Amanda sent me."

"Did she now?" She nods. "Did she send a message as well?"

"She did. 'Please enjoy this snack until I get off at 4.'"

While I realize that Lisa is indeed a 'snack', since I plan on gorging myself on Amanda, I still don't like the term. I find it very insulting. But Lisa doesn’t appear to be insulted by it. In fact she appears to be honored to call herself that. Stepping up to her, I scent her neck and extend my fangs. "Why don't we take this somewhere a hell of a lot more private?" I purr in her ear, nuzzling behind it.

She shivers when I trace her jaw with one fang. "As tempting as that is, sir, I don't have sex with strangers. Not even one who is feeding from me."

I give a one-shouldered shrug. "Very well." Plopping down on the couch behind me, I pull Lisa onto my lap. I may be horny as hell right now but I've never forced anyone, and I'm not about to start now. Arranging Lisa to my satisfaction, I lick a stripe up the left side of her neck before piercing her vein with my fangs and letting her blood flow over my tongue. The noises Lisa makes while I feed soon have me fully erect and throbbing. 

Placing my right hand on her left knee, I slowly caress her thigh, intent on making sure she gets some pleasure from my feeding. Her hand lands on my wrist, stopping my advancement. "Not even that, sir," she whispers, her breathless voice going right to my groin.

Sooner than usual, I pull my fangs back and lick the wound closed. "Sorry. Just wanted you to get some pleasure from this."

"Being your snack gave me plenty of pleasure, sir."

I smile down at her. "Please don't call me 'sir'."

She returns my smile and pulls my head down to kiss me, her tongue playing with my canines until I get the hint and extend my fangs for her to explore. After about a minute, I sense her lungs are starting to protest so I pull back to let her breathe. She, of course, doesn't like this and tries to recapture my lips with a small noise of disapproval. "Easy, little one," I chuckle softly, gently caressing her cheek with my thumb. "Breathing is a good thing."

She glares at me. "I find breathing overrated."

Her response has me laughing out loud. "And yet it is still necessary for you to remain alive." She pouts prettily at me. Tapping her on the nose with one finger, I gently scold her. "None of that, now. Now, be a good girl and run along. Remember to tell Amanda I said thanks and I'll see her at 4." I set her on her feet, gripping her waist until she can stand on her own. With a pat to her plump ass, I send her on her way.

Once Lisa has left, I notice that John, Rodney and Teyla are still standing, watching me.

"C'mon, guys. Sit down." 

Teyla sits gracefully on the edge of the armchair behind her, John flops down on the couch cushion to my left and Rodney just stands there, staring at me.

"Sit down, Rodney," John says.

"I'd love to, but he's gonna have to move over first."

"Yeah, not gonna happen." I wiggle deeper into the cushion, stretching my legs out in front of me and crossing my ankles.

John apparently still finds me somewhat funny as I can hear him stifling his giggles. "Then sit here," he says, tugging on Rodney's wrist until he's sprawled across John's lap.

"Mm, yes. I should have thought of this," Rodney murmurs before pulling John's head down so they can engage in some tonsil hockey.

"Get a room," I growl. John lifts his head, his fangs extended, hazel eyes glowing faintly. I am not impressed. "And I swear to God if you two start feeding from each other I will so kick your ass!"

With a shake of his head, John retracts his fangs. "Yes, right. Sorry about that." John pushes Rodney from his lap. "Why don't you take Teyla and remind Ronon to not let more than one person feed from him."

I stare down at my hands clasped in my lap until I hear Rodney and Teyla clomp down the stairs. I’m trying to think of something to say when abruptly there’s a strange feeling making itself known in my lower brain, an instant siren call on all my instincts, and it’s suddenly urging me to go, move, run! It forces me to my feet and over to the railing before my upper brain catches up. John gets to his feet much more slowly and approaches where I'm standing with a death grip on the rail. His hand touches my shoulder hesitantly, almost as if he's afraid I'll completely lose it if he moves too fast or if his touch is too firm.

"Dean?" John's softly spoken question has me biting back the keening wail that wants to escape. Now's neither the time, nor the place for that. It’s like all of a sudden, my inner beast has awakened and it’s all I can do to keep it from tearing loose and tearing this place apart.

"I'm hungry, Jean-Luc," I growl, my voice pitched low in an effort to keep the animalistic scream from slipping past my lips.

"You just ate."

A sharp shake of my head negates his statement. "That was a _snack_. And besides, it's not that kind of hunger."

"Then what kind is it?" The sympathetic tone of his voice is almost too much.

Hard to know exactly, but the question gives me reason to sort through the roiling urges and try to put it into words. "I'm hungry for a good fight. One that leaves the other guy, or hell even me, on death's doorstep."

"Hard to leave you at death's door, but I understand what you mean. You've got bloodlust."

I nod, pulling back on the railing until I'm bent in half and my arms are stretched out in front of me, my head hanging down between them. A tingling begins in the base of my skull and I look up in time to see a tall figure enter the club. He's wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, a black leather full-length trench coat and steel-toed biker boots. There's an aura of danger surrounding him and everyone in the place steps aside to let him pass, none looking him in the eye.

"Hey, John? You know that guy who just walked in?"

"No. Do you?"

"He seems familiar but I can't place him, nor do I know his name." I turn toward the stairs and John grabs my arm to stop me.

"You had better not be thinking of starting something with him," he warns.

I look over my shoulder at him. "Not gonna start anything. Just gonna leave. Since you're my ride, I figured we had better gather your Mate."

"Uh-huh. Like I'm gonna believe that load of bullshit. Besides, the car's a two-seater."

"So you're just gonna leave him here?" I jerk my arm outta his grasp and continue on my way toward the stairs, keeping my eyes on where the newcomer's standing charming a female donor.

"No, I'll send him, Teyla and Ronon on back to where we're staying. They're not expecting me until late Sunday so –" he trails off, lengthening his stride until he's walking shoulder to shoulder with me. John knows me, and he knows that in the rare moments I get like this, it is _not_ a good idea to leave me without a rational friend to keep me from doing something I might regret later.

We start down the stairs and I know the newcomer is staring right at me. The sunglasses hide his eyes but I can feel his gaze on me. Just as John and I reach the last step, the newcomer extends his fangs, tilts his head and sinks them into the neck of the hot young woman he’s been trying his lines on. I'm shocked by the arrogance of this man, his utter audacity. This may be a vampire bar where feeding isn't that private an act, but most people will not feed while standing in the middle of the floor and when they know a stranger is watching. He keeps his eyes trained on me as he drinks, then pulls back without closing the wound. As I watch, two tiny trails of blood run down her neck. He smirks then leans in so he can run the tip of his tongue up her neck, collecting the blood and making the little pinholes heal up and disappear.

I really want to ask this vampire how I know him but I'm mindful of John pacing along beside me. While he has never backed down from a fight, and isn't about to start now, he's not even supposed to be here so getting into a scuffle would cause more problems for him than for me. And I want to fight this man. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I just know that I _know_ him somehow, and I want to beat the ever-loving crap out of him. Hell, I want to _kill_ him. Who _is_ this guy?

John and I continue on toward the exit and I maintain eye contact with the newcomer until I have to break it or start walking backward, and that would just be way too obvious.

Pushing through the door, I find Amanda reading a book while sucking on a lollipop. I groan mentally at the images that flit through my mind at the sight of her luscious lips wrapped around the candy. Her head whips around at the sound of the door opening and she bounces off her stool.

"You're leaving?" she pouts, placing one hand in the middle of my chest.

Lifting her hand to my lips, I suck her middle finger into my mouth. "Yeah, I got called into work." I put just a hint of regret into my voice. The regret is very real, Amanda is a wildcat in the sack, and I really need to burn off some energy, but I have a feeling that fucking her while feeding isn't going to get rid of the itch under my skin that's urging me to run, go, do something. 

She actually whines a bit and deepens her pout. She knows exactly which of my buttons to push and how. Only thing is, I can't afford to let her get to me. Not tonight. "You will be back, right?"

"Of course, darlin'." And I will be back. It might not be for a week or more but I _will_ be back.

Gripping her shoulders, I place a chaste kiss on her lips and then set her aside before exiting the club, John right behind me.

At the car, I don't even hesitate, just climb in behind the wheel and start it up. I want to say I wouldn't have left John if he had been just a second slower in getting into the passenger seat, but with the restless feelings increasing by the second, I can't. As it is, he's barely buckled his seat belt before I'm squealing the tires on my way out of the parking lot.

The drive back north is made in complete silence, for which I am beyond grateful, but I can feel his gaze on me like a physical touch. I chew my own tongue to keep myself from demanding he tell me what's on his mind because I know – _I know_ – I don't want to hear it. He's had a one-track mind this visit and I'm tired of explaining myself to him. Tired of explaining myself to myself, actually. I _know_ I need to tell Carter sooner rather than later, but damnit all to _Hell_ , I just can't find the opening I need, that moment back at the loft notwithstanding. 

I break just about every traffic law and enter the garage in record time, pulling into the spot next to my SUV with a squeal of brakes and throwing John forward hard enough against his seatbelt to force an 'oaf' from him. "Damn, Dean," he grumbles, fumbling with the buckle. I don't stay inside long enough to hear what else he has to say. 

When we meet at the rear of the car, him on his way to the driver's side, me to my SUV, he plants himself firmly in my path. A growl builds deep in my throat because I still don't fucking want to hear whatever the fuck it is he has to fucking say, but before I can give voice to it, he grabs my face and pulls me into a kiss. Since he's stated several times that he will not cheat on his Mate, I keep my lips closed until he flicks his tongue against them, gently demanding I open up. With a groan, I part my lips to let his tongue tangle with mine. Wrapping two fingers around two of his belt loops, I tug him closer. I'm pleasantly surprised when he doesn't pretend he can't feel the hard length of my erection running down my thigh but instead rubs his against my hip. It’s a little odd coming from him but I’m not going to complain, and he keeps rubbing, and soon enough we can’t stop and we just grind against each other and kiss like teenagers until I’m only somewhat surprised at the fact that the pressure is just right, it’s good, and I grab his hips and press against him just so and then suddenly we have liftoff.

Pulling back, I rest my forehead against his, shaking through my orgasm. "Damn, Jean-Luc. I haven't come in my pants… ever," I huff a nervous laugh.

He joins me in my laughter. "I haven't come in my pants in quite a while myself, but I felt you needed the release." And he's right. I did need the release that climax gave me but it's still not enough.

"Thanks," I whisper, stepping back out of his arms.

He just throws me a patented John Sheppard smirk, it's actually patented as a Jean-Luc Shepard smirk but that's not his name anymore, and steps around me. I climb up into my truck, I wish I had something more like the Corvette John had rented but being undercover means I can't dive something that flashy, and sit there gripping the steering wheel waiting for John to leave. As soon as he's out of sight, I start the car and point it in the direction of the seedy underbelly of LA's vampire society. 

The building I end up at is just as unassuming as the one I live in but I happen to know that illegal bare-knuckle fights between vampires are held inside. The only humans allowed are used as food. 

"It's invitation only, Bub," the bouncer informs me, putting one hand in the middle of my chest to stop me. I know he knows I'm a vampire because he's one and therefore he can hear that I don't have a heartbeat.

A swift right hook has him staggering back several steps. "There's my invite," I snarl, stepping around him and into the building.

The inside looks just like one would expect from an illegal fighting hall. It's almost totally no-frills, although everywhere one looks there are jewels sparkling in the low lighting and clothes made from expensive materials. The ring looks like, and probably is, an official boxing ring. The 'stands' are chairs placed around the perimeter of the ring, spaced so that everyone has a view. The only frills are in one corner where the humans are kept. The ratio of human to vampire is four to one. Not one single vampire present has to spend the evening without feeding. In the feeding corner, there are beds, couches and overstuffed armchairs. The vampires present are allowed to fuck their meal if they are so inclined. The cop in me is appalled because the humans really don't have a say. They're treated like nothing more than food by most of the vampires and quite a few of them are under the age of donor consent, which means that pedophilia is rampant. Every vampire knows that the blood of a child is sweeter and more powerful than the blood of an adult, something about their innocence or some shit like that. But it's thinking like that that was the impetus for the age restriction laws for donors. That, and more vampires than I like to think about don't stop before they take too much, and that leaves the donor on the edge of death, and some will counter that by Turning them, and who wants to spend eternity as a child?

While the fights are illegal because they're not regulated, not that anyone can get _seriously_ hurt since only vampires are allowed to fight, if the place is ever raided the thing that most of those present would go down for would be the underage feeding. 

"Can I help you?" A timid human girl of about twelve approaches. A glance down shows that she has her head lowered in respect, her hands clasped in from of her.

I frown at her head, not quite sure how to answer her. Turns out I needn't have worried because just as I open my mouth a female vampire comes rushing over from the feeding corner, her face a study in anger. "Stupid chit," she growls, backhanding the girl across the face. "What have I told you about approaching strangers?"

"Sorry, Mistress," the girl apologizes, tears streaming down her face, her abused cheek clutched in one hand.

The woman turns to me and smiles a smile that really creeps me out. If I hadn't've met her here, I'd probably end up in bed with her. She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, her black hair is piled on top of her head with tendrils of curls framing her face. A pair of small, square sunglasses are perched on the end of her nose leaving her midnight blue eyes visible. A quick glance down shows she's wearing an oriental dress that shows a hell of a lot of both legs. "Please forgive her, sir. She hasn't been with us long and is still learning that she's just a food source."

 _Just a food source_ … That phrase right there sums up why laws had to be created to regulate feeding. Laws that basically require outed vampires to fucking _register_ with the government. As if staying alive is a fucking privilege instead of a right. Humans don't have to register their status, nor do they have any laws regulating how and when they can eat. But that's an argument for another day because right here, right now, my main concern is to rid myself of the feeling that if I don't expel a hell of a lot of fucking energy I'll explode and take a lot of fucking innocents with me.

I'm not sure who is the bigger monster: the vampires who buy children for places like this, or the humans that sell their own children knowing that they're considered nothing more than a food source, and maybe a fuck toy, by the vampires who patronize these places.

The hostess is waiting for my response, her smile beginning to slip, which tells me I've taken too long. "Not a problem. There are some adults that still haven't figured out that the only thing they're good for is a quick feed and an even quicker fuck." The words taste like bile in my mouth but years of being undercover, first as a vamp disguised as a human, then as a cop playing at being a criminal, have me saying them without showing just how much I hate knowing that there are vampires in this world who feel that they are better than the humans they feed from.

"What can we do for an associate of Sylum Clan this evening?" the hostess asks next, and I can see her practically salivating at the prospect of having someone from Sylum in her establishment.

I swear if being affiliated with Sylum Clan wasn't good for opening certain doors, I'd tell Nick where to shove off and go it alone. "I wasn't aware that my association with Sylum was known outside certain circles. Especially since I haven't revealed myself as a vampire, publicly." My voice is sharper than it probably should be, but my being a vampire is as closely guarded a secret as my being a cop is during a case.

Her smile turns into a smirk. "I make it my business to know of each and every vampire in my city," she purrs, overstepping herself by getting in my personal space and running one manicured fingernail down the front of my shirt. 

"I don't like it when people assume a closer acquaintance than they have," I admonish, grabbing her hand, mindful to keep my grip light so as not to give away my anger, and lightly pushing her back a couple of steps. "When I leave tonight you will forget you know anything about me. Am I clear?" While it's nearly impossible to tell exactly how long someone's been a vampire, it is possible to guess based on how strong they are. And she's not as strong as someone as old as me, while being slightly stronger than John, so I'm guessing she's been a vampire about 500 years. If she's as smart as I'm positive she is, she'll realize she can't beat me and it would be in her best interest to bow to my dictates. 

"Crystal, sir." Her voice warbles a bit. She clears her throat before asking again what she can do for me.

"I'm here to work off some restless energy." Having stated my reason for being there, I give into the urge to do something and curl my hands into fists while bouncing ever so lightly on the balls of my feet. I feel just like I did that one time I fed from a junkie: jittery, jumping at every little sound, unable to stand still for more than a second.

"Well, then, you've come to the right place." She turns and begins to walk further into the room. "I'm afraid I can't put you on a card until later in the evening, all the other slots are full. Would you care for something to eat while you wait?" We've entered the feeding corner by this time and she swipes her arm out to encompass all the humans who are currently not being fed from. 

It sickens me that the adult to child ratio is so low and I want nothing more than to pull my badge, which I don't have with me, and arrest everyone present and get the victims the help they need. I want to say no right away but force myself to look over what's being offered. There are a few adults, both male and female, that prick my interest, sexually, but they appear to be on the brink of exhaustion so I force myself to turn back to the hostess and say "I've already eaten this evening, but thank you."

"Very well. Could I interest you in a toy?" Yet another term I hate. A 'toy' is a human that a vampire has sex with without feeding.

This time I decide to accept. "Yeah, I'll take… her, him and those two." I point out the four adults that look like they're the closest to dropping.

A gleam appears in her eyes. "I had heard that Sylum members were horny bastards." She gives me a once over, and I can see her trying to figure out how to get me into her bed. "You happen to have excellent taste, sir. Those are four of our best toys. Trained them myself, I did." She motions them over and gives them a few simple instructions then starts to walk away.

"Hostess," I call her back. "I require more privacy that you provide here," I say when she turns back to look at me.

"Of course. Follow me." And she leads us up a flight of stairs to a room that has a floor to ceiling window overlooking the area below. "Enjoy. I'll send someone to fetch you when it's your turn in the ring."

I nod my acceptance, showing her out and then locking the door behind her. When I turn back around all four adults have begun undressing. "Stop," I order and they all look at me in varying degrees of horror. "I'm not going to feed from you and I'm not going to fuck you." Their faces fall at that. "I asked for privacy so that the four of you could get some uninterrupted sleep. The hostess hinted that it'll be hours before my card is called so please, get some much needed rest."

One of the women falls to her knees at my feet, tears streaming down her face. "Bless you, sir. I had heard that Sylum was the gentle clan; that members of Sylum aren't like other vampires."

I help her to her feet and over to the bed. "I remember being human, it really wasn't that long ago. But even if I didn't, without humans us vampires would starve to death. I see no reason to treat you all like a herd of cattle; here for nothing more than to feed us and provide for our sexual needs."

I know my speech sounds a little uncharacteristic in my own ears, but I’ve been needing to say it ever since I walked in here and these people do need to hear that not all vampires are sick, soulless… I honestly can’t think of enough vulgar words for them. Instead, I tuck the two women into the bed then turn to assist the older of the two men. He grabs my arm when I begin to step back. "Will you help us? What they're doing with those children –" he trails off with a bone deep shudder of revulsion.

"I'll do what I can. Now sleep, all of you." Once they're all settled, curled around each other, which makes me wonder if they're related, I turn off the lights and sit down in a chair in front of the window to watch the fights before mine, sizing up my competition.

Several hours later, the hostess enters and she can't quite hide her surprise to find me sitting in a chair while the humans are sleeping in the bed. "They weren't to your taste, sir?"

"On the contrary, they were very enjoyable. I just didn't see the point of keeping them awake once we were done." I stand and stalk over to where she's standing by the bed staring down at the sleeping humans. "That a problem?" I put just a hint of malice into my tone.

She gets what I'm trying to say, that if she doesn't back off right quick I can, and most likely will, bring the wrath of Sylum down on her skanky ass. "Not at all, sir. They were yours to do with as you saw fit for the time you had them." Reaching out, she roughly shakes them awake. "Get up," her voice is curt brooking no argument. "It's time to go." She doesn't even let them come fully awake before she's shoving them out the door.

Downstairs, I'm lead to a corner of the ring where a pretty female vampire helps me remove my jacket and shirt. She gives me a kiss for luck and I climb into the ring.

My competition is a bald vamp with tattoos up his neck and on his head. His eyes are wild and I'd bet donuts to dollars he's not only older than me but he lost his Mate right before he was able to Turn him so that they could Bond. A vampire lost in the grief-madness of losing a Mate pre-Turned is a vampire that has lost a lot of reason, common sense, conscientiousness, and the ability to give a fuck, and it usually stays that way until they find their Mate again. A vampire that manages to Turn his or her Mate but then loses that Mate in the delicate stage before they can Bond, on the other hand, is little more functional than the animals that so many humans compare us to, and a lot more dangerous. I know I’m one of the lucky ones, since I managed to somewhat recover after losing Adair; of course he was dead before I was Turned so that helped. But I’ve heard the stories about families, small towns, and even whole vampire clans that don’t exist anymore because they happened to be in the path of an older vampire who had lost their Mate before the Bond could be completed. Thankfully this one seems to be in the first category, since otherwise even I would have second thoughts about going up against him.

An older male vampire enters the ring and stops when he reaches the middle. With a wave of his hands he motions us closer. Pointing at me, he begins to speak. "I've never seen you before so I'll go over the rules." My competition snickers. "One rule: anything goes." He steps back and out of the ring.

I twist my head from side to side, cracking my neck, then rotate my shoulders to loosen the muscles in preparation of the coming fight. We fall back to our respective corners before charging each other and letting fly with the punches.

There’s no finesse here beyond the easy skill of men who learned to fight centuries ago. We’re not flashy or showy, we’re just pounding the ever-loving shit out of each other. Every rock-hard fist that slams against my cheekbone just fuels the primal fires, makes me bare my bloody fangs and return the favor, and I don’t count it as a solid hit until I hear more than just a grunt when I connect with his ribs. It doesn’t take me long to categorize our strengths: I’m a little faster and I put a little more effort into making my blows count, while my opponent has both the single-mindedness and the physical impact of a sledgehammer. But he’s got stamina, and he wants to brawl just as badly as I do, and I show him just how happy I am to have an opponent that can last as long as I can by doing my best to show him how much he fucked up by thinking he can take me on.

The fight is fast and furious and by the end we're both bloody and bruised, and the crowd loved every fucking minute of it. My ribs ache, my knuckles ache, my jaw aches, hell even my fucking eyelashes hurt but I win. My last punch is a haymaker that leaves my competition flat on his back on the mat, unconscious.

I stumble out of the ring just as the doors burst open and a SWAT team comes storming in yelling “FBI! Don't move!”

"Fuck!" I mutter, grabbing for my shirt and jacket so I can beat a hasty retreat. Somehow I manage to make it to a few turns away from the back door with almost no interference from the cops. Almost.

"And just where do you think you're going?" a familiar voice demands from behind me.

I turn slowly and grimace when I see Don Epps, FBI and Sylum Clan member, standing there, rifle resting against his shoulder and looking for all the world like he owns the place. I don’t know him very well, but well enough to know that I just might be in too much shit for Carter to dig me out of. And that makes me think of the many reasons why I dearly _don’t_ want Carter to hear about this. "Don, I can explain," I begin. And I can already tell that he has a pretty good idea of why I look like I just went twelve rounds with the entire cast of all the _Rocky_ movies, but I haven’t exactly forgotten that there are other criminal charges to be had here.

Which is why I’m happy as fuck when he holds up a hand to stop me. "No need. John called before he headed back to San Francisco. Warned me you might be in a place like this."

I nod. "So…?"

With a sigh, he lowers the rifle. "Get out of here. Last thing I need is for Nick to discover I arrested you for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I refuse to let my relief show, and begin to waltz out that door to sweet freedom like I hadn’t just been in danger of losing it. With a smirk, I give Don a friendly slap on the shoulder as I pass. "Thanks man. I owe you one."

"Yeah, you do. And I know just how you can pay up, too." I don't even need to ask, nor do I need him to spell it out for me, but he does anyway. "Call Nick. Agree to swear fidelity."

I stop, hang my head, release a deep breath. "I'll think about it." I finally decide to concede the point so maybe I can get some peace. 

"I'll tell him," Don calls out to my retreating back. I hope to God it's enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appearance by the Jack O'Neill clone from the _SG-1_ season seven episode _Fragile Balance_.

I can't believe I was stupid enough to actually go to that place, but I needed to expel some energy and I really only had two choices; engage in some bare-knuckle fighting or fuck and feed from Carter. The second option isn't really an option, not at this time at any rate.

If John hadn't called Don who knows what would have happened. Was the raid already scheduled or did Don plan it in order to pull me out? Not that I needed the help. Don's so new to being a vampire that he really wouldn't be much help to me if it came down to it. Most of Don's power currently comes from the guns he has access to, the same type of guns I have access to so that isn't really any help. 

On the drive home, I berate myself for giving into one of my baser needs. But if I hadn't, I would have given into the other one, and forcing Carter is _not_ a good idea.

I arrive at my apartment and climb from the truck. Once upstairs, I peel the clothes from my body, letting them lay where they fall. I feel dirty just from having been around that place. All those kids being forced to service Vampires, all the crass bloodsuckers thinking they're so much better than the Humans they feed from...

With a sharp twist of my hand, I turn on the shower and make the water as hot as I can stand; if I want to scrub the filth of that place off me, it needs to be just shy of scalding. Climbing into the tub, I brace my hands on the wall, my head hanging down between my arms and let the water beat down on my neck and shoulders. Praying it'll ease the tension that has settled there, a tension that feels like has always been there.

The restless feeling of the past day intensifies and suddenly I know just what it is my subconscious has been urging me to do. The small voice that lives inside my brain is whispering that I should seek out Carter. I know he's in one of two places: downstairs in the loft or naked in his bed at his house. And the safe bet would be on him being downstairs. It wouldn't take much to slip down the stairs, not the elevator, too difficult to sneak in through the main door because it's next to impossible to keep it from clanging shut. The door to the stairwell can be closed slowly, quietly.

I can see it as vividly as if it's actually happening right now: I'd exit the stairwell, Carter would be sitting at his desk finishing up some paperwork, he'd be wearing those glasses that I find sexy in the extreme. I'd stalk across the floor, push his chair back against the wall, straddle his hips, sink my fangs into his neck, drain him and then bite open my wrist before forcing him to drink from me. I'd then carry him upstairs to my room, lay him on the bed and hold him through his death throes. I'd then fuck him to within an inch of his life while sealing the Bond.

The fantasy is so strong I can taste his blood, and it shocks me with its intensity so much that I involuntarily flinch back, slipping on the wet bottom of the tub and with a thud, I land hard on my ass. The pain is enough to bring me back to myself. I press my head back against the tiled wall behind me and suddenly I realize just why I've been feeling so out of sorts today. I'm fucking lonely, so fucking tired of being alone. I pull my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them, then bury my face in them before giving over to the emotion that has had me on the edge all damn day. My shoulders shake with the force of my sobs, my screams muffled by my flesh. I've never been much of a crier, not even as a child, and it has nothing to do with being a Highlander from the 9th century. Even Highlanders know that tears are necessary at times, and there is no shame in weeping if the situation is right. No, I just never really cried, although I did shed a tear or two at my parents' funeral, but those were more for the fact that I was officially all alone in the world at the ripe old age of sixteen. Sure I was part of one of the largest Clans in all of Scotland, but I didn't have any blood relatives anymore.

A memory comes unbidden to the forefront of my mind. A memory I haven't thought of in way too long.

 

Winter is finally on its way out with spring right around the corner. The sun is high in the sky, and I can feel it beating down on my head, making my scalp hot. 

For the past several months, I've been trying to work up the courage to enter the fenced off area where The McKinnon and his men practice their skills. Today I've decided is going to be the day I earn my place within this Clan once and for all.

I pull my father's [sword](http://www.weaponmasters.com/shopping/Live-Steel-Single-Handed-Broadsword-p-16816.html) from its scabbard, doing my best to ignore just how heavy it is, and, with my head high, make my way across the courtyard to the knot of people watching The McKinnon put his men through their paces.

Once I'm within hearing distance of the crowd, I can make out bits and pieces of conversation. I picked a good day to demand my place because today The McKinnon has issued a challenge to every member of the Clan. None of the people I hear talking about it knows what the challenge is, exactly, but they all seem to be quite excited about it.

The broadsword feels awkward in my hand but I do my best to not let on that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. I nervously flip the sword in my hand, testing its weight like I've seen the older men do, though it's a stretch to act like it doesn't weigh so much since I'm limited by how young I am compared to these old warriors. Thankfully my father's sword, while having a wide blade and good reach, isn't as heavy as most others and its guard is more open than that preferred by The McKinnon; I can comfortably hold my grip with both hands, while his hilt is more ornate and almost completely encloses his right hand. Planting my feet shoulder width apart, I stand as straight as I can, shoulders back, chin up, ready to meet any and all comers as fearlessly as I can. I may only be sixteen summers but I just lost my parents a few months ago, and now I have to fight for everything I get, from the pallet I sleep on at night to the food I eat during the day. But here, now, I'm prepared to fight for my future. I have to fight for my future. If I fail to win here today, I could possibly be turned out, left all alone in the world to fend for myself.

"You sure about this, lad?" The man opposite me is about twice my size. His face is sharp and chiseled like granite from a life of fighting for every little thing. His arms are huge and hard from years of swinging a sword, and his eyes glint in the early afternoon sun like emeralds.

A quick nod of my head is the only answer I'll give him. I'm afraid if I speak my voice will betray my nerves. Bad enough that I’m standing here facing such a massive and imposing man, the leader of my Clan, and here I am just a scrawny kid with threadbare clothes and a blade that once belonged to someone else.

"You're just a weak little laddie. There's no way you can hope to defeat me. Might as well go home." He waves his hand at me, urging me to turn tail and run before turning his back on me and laughing with his men. I'm positive I'm the butt of whatever joke was just made, and suddenly my nerves disappear, to be replaced with anger. I have been laughed at time and time again, ever since I came to live here after my parents' funeral. And on my father's grave I swore that I would never let _anyone_ laugh at me again.

"I can defeat you," I snarl, my grip tightening on the hilt of my sword until my fingers ache. "I _will_ defeat you."

He turns back around and the humor is slowly being replaced with irritation. The people gathered around are still chuckling but it's dying down as one by one they realize just what it is I'm fighting for here today. "You're making a big mistake, Dean McGillis. Now go home before you get hurt."

"I have no home!" I scream, the anguish and pain welling up inside, threatening to spill over. "I fight for my place in this Clan per the laws of The McKinnon himself!" A murmur ripples through the crowd at my pronouncement. Never again will I be looked down on by these people; never again will I allow them to make me feel less than I am. I may have been born to the poorest crofter in the Clan, but I am still a member of Clan McKinnon! I have the same right to fight for my place as every other member.

With a roar, I charge him, holding my sword high above my head. I expect him to stay where he is and force me to come to him, but he doesn't. With a battle cry of his own, he races to meet me halfway. We meet in the middle of the area with a clash of swords, the force vibrating down my arm, into my shoulder almost making me drop my sword. Gritting my teeth, I bite back a cry at the pain. I refuse to show any weakness. We grab each other's wrists, each straining to gain some quarter, neither willing to give that quarter. The strain is incredible. We’ve just begun and already my hands ache and sweat starts to run down my forehead but I don't dare let go of his wrist to wipe it away, and I wonder if The McKinnon is starting to sweat yet. I look into his eyes, and instead of sweat I see something there that should make me angry beyond belief but it doesn't. What I see in his eyes isn't mockery but instead a sort of sadness informing me that he will not be fighting me with his full strength. While he won't actually go easy on me, he will find a way to make it more of a fair fight by not giving the fight his all.

Any normal Highlander would be beyond insulted at not being taken seriously, but instead of being angry I'm grateful that he's willing to give me a chance. Of course he knows where I'm coming from, he was orphaned at a young age as well and had to fight his way to where he is now.

We finally manage to push each other back, and I draw first blood when the edge of my sword grazes his cheek. It takes everything within me to not get too cocky. We circle each other slowly, always looking for an opening, and when we spot one we dive for it before our challenger can react. With clangs of steel and flashes of metal our swords clash over and over, each getting in a nick here, a cut there. My father might have died a starving, penniless crofter, but he had also lived as one of The McKinnon's scouts in times of war, and he had done his best to teach me to take care of myself and my mother. Because of the lack of food making him weaker as time went on, he'd started relying more on being smarter instead of stronger, and one of the lessons I'd learned from him in the scant hours he wasn't working the parched fields or going to bed hungry was that if my opponent is faster at finding an opening then I just have to be more patient and put up a better defense. I have to save my strength and wear my opponent down, put them off-balance and then strike when and how they least expect it.

The fight lasts most of the afternoon. When I finally notice, we're both sweating profusely, breathing hard and have lowered the top half of our léinte, baring our chests, and it is with some surprise that I see that the sun has begun to dip below the mountains. Since this isn't a fight to the death, it's actually in good form to back away from each other now and then to wipe our brows and catch our breaths. We show respect for each other and don't strike until the other is ready. While I'm mopping sweat from my head with my ragged léine, The McKinnon is just watching me until I look up at him again. "If we don't hurry this along, lad, we'll be here all night, and I don't want that. Do you?" he taunts, flipping his sword in his hand.

I remain calm like my father taught me and don't let myself be angered by The McKinnon's callous dismissal of me. I can see he's trying to get it over with, either because he's bored, or he's afraid he'll hurt me, but I will not hurry. I will be patient and wait for my opening. In fact, I take one of my father's tricks and try to anger him into making a mistake: I imitate him, tossing my sword into the air and catching it with a dramatic flourish, and then settle my grip again. I can't tell whether he's angry or impressed, and I don't get a chance to think about it, because suddenly he comes at me again and I have to move forward to meet him so the force of his charge doesn't knock me over, and once again our swords tangle above our heads. As our crossed blades press against each other I stare into his eyes once more, but this time I realize with a start that somewhere over the course of the fight he had changed tactics and begun fighting me for real. He was getting tired. I was wearing him down! The knowledge fuels the fire in my belly and with a snarl, I strike how he least expects it: I plant one boot in his belly and kick him away. He stumbles back a few steps, wheezing for a few moments, but doesn't fall. He looks up at me from under his lashes and wipes the dirt from his skin. With a smirk, he beckons me closer.

The fight continues with me now totally intent on ending it sooner rather than later. My strength is waning but I duck under his next sweeping down-sideways swing and strike upwards, not toward the blade but instead against the protective hilt which both guards and traps his hand, and the awkward twisting against his hand is enough to dislodge his grip and knock the sword away. As it spins away in the dust, he falls to his knees in the universal sign of surrender. I place the tip of my sword in the hollow of his throat, my hand tight on the hilt, the heel of the other braced against the knob on the end in preparation of pushing it through and ending his life. I could end this now and take over as The McKinnon, but he is so well loved that I know that if I did, I'd breathe my last just seconds after him. 

"Go on, Dean. Finish it," he instructs when he sees me hesitating. 

I don't need to kill him now that I've proved my point; I belong in this Clan just as much as anyone else. Sparing his life isn't a sign of weakness but a sign of respect. With a smug grin, I throw my sword point-first into the ground beside us. He throws back his head and laughs. I offer him my hand, and he clasps my wrist, allowing me to pull him to his feet.

Once he's fully upright, he pounds me on the back, almost knocking me over. "Good show, lad. Good show!" He grabs my arm and raises it above my head. "Hear my words, Clan McKinnon! This day have I found the man who will one day be my Second!" I'm suddenly frozen in shock as a great cheer goes up from the crowd.

Confusion reigns. I was merely fighting for my place as one of his warriors. I never thought I could become his Second. Not sure I even want that kind of responsibility. Of course I no longer have any say. 

I look around at the people chanting my name and I allow myself to be proud. Finally I have their respect. No longer will they turn their noses up when I walk by, ignore me when I speak. From now on, I will be allowed to dine at the same table, court their daughters, be friends with their sons.

The McKinnon slings one arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the castle. "Tonight we feast, for today you have become a man, Dean McGillis!" I go along easily but suddenly I stop; I've had so little for so long that I can't allow myself to abandon my father's sword, but I'm surprised to see that other warriors of the clan have picked it up as well as The McKinnon's, and as I look to my clan leader in more confusion he gives me a smile that tells me it will be okay, the blade will be cared for and returned to me. It's enough to make my eyes burn, this new knowledge that my plain, battle-worn sword will be serviced by the same men who make blades for the clan's finest warriors. And now, so will I.

Lady McKinnon makes sure I get a dunking to get the worst of the stink and grime off me before she lets me set foot in her house. Of course I'm not the only one that's forced to bathe. The older men take great pleasure in holding me down, stripping me bare and vigorously scrubbing at my skin until I'm almost howling. I would put up more of a fight but they're treating me as one of their own, and besides, I am tired from the battle I fought today. And while I'm being scrubbed, so are my clothes, because by the time I'm allowed to get myself dry I'm being handed my still-damp léine, my old belt with its cracked leather scabbard, and then I am presented with my father's blade. It's been sharpened and polished, and the leather around the grip has been oiled, and as I take it and sheathe it at my side I again have to stop and blink back tears.

Once the lady is satisfied, we're all allowed to sit at the table with me to The McKinnon's right as befits my new station, his wife to his left and the chair to my right empty until I marry. There's venison and mutton and even haggis along with fruit and crusty bread. The wine and ale flow freely. While I've never tasted food so good I can't keep the anger from building inside at the thought that while everyone here is feasting, there are families on the outskirts that are starving to death.

Apparently what I'm feeling shows on my face, because suddenly The McKinnon is leaning toward me. "Speak to me, Dean. As my Second you are one of only a handful of men allowed to speak their mind without fear of retribution."

Swallowing thickly, I try and figure out how best to broach the subject. "The amount of food, Laird. Surely it's too much for the people present."

He nods slowly, his face scrunched in thought. "And so it is. After everyone here has had their fill, the rest will be collected and taken to the poorest families in the morning."

I gape at him. "Seriously, Laird?"

"Yes, Dean. What kind of laird would I be if I ate like this while my people starve? And before you get even angrier, this is a special occasion. We do not eat this well all the time."

"But your people _are_ starving. My parents –" I can't even finish that sentence, the pain of their deaths is still too fresh.

"I gave them food, Dean. I have a feeling they gave most, if not all, of it to you." That sounds like something they'd do. "I want you to know I wanted to attend their funerals but we lost so many this past winter that it just wasn't possible. Who do I insult by not attending? So I decided to not attend any outside my immediate family." He lays his hand on my wrist. "I'm glad your father's lack of skills was not passed down to you, Dean." 

His words make sense but I'm still angry and I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm angry because my parents died to make sure I would have enough to eat. I turn back to my plate and force myself to finish the food that is piled on it.

"Why do ye hate him so much, lad?" The McKinnon asks after a moment.

I know exactly who he’s talking about, but I still make myself respectfully answer, "Who, Laird?"

"Your father." 

I can't look at him. Something about his voice is quiet and almost sad, and that just makes me angry again. My father had never dealt well with people feeling sorry for him, and I suppose he passed that on to me. "Same reason as everyone else, Laird," I respond stonily, although I'm speaking through gritted teeth. "He was a poor farmer and an even poorer warrior. Even when he did use his sword, he showed no honor and instead used base tricks no true Highlander would stoop to. He didn't even die in _battle_. Face it, Laird, the name McGillis made him a laughingstock to the entire Clan, and now your Second will be one as well. I'm Dean, son of Bram the sneaking throat-cutter, Bram the clever fool."

A rumbling sigh cuts me off before I continue, and it almost sounds like The McKinnon wants to rub his hand over his face. "Clever fool is right," he mutters. "He didn't ever tell me he wasn't packing enough rations to feed himself whenever I sent him scouting, which almost got him killed more than once. I never liked those tricks he used, either, even if they did keep him alive long enough to come back home. I swear he made his home on the border just to spite me, so I'd have to work that much harder to get to him if I needed him. So he could spend that much longer with you and your mother." 

Before I can speak, he suddenly holds up a very big finger and I sit quietly and listen as he says, "I will say this, Dean: I admit that not many liked your father and it was probably because he didn't like a lot of them either, and I was no different. I still don't like him, though I don't feel it right to speak ill of the dead. But I want you to remember these things: he did what he could to come home to you and keep you safe, and he died saving your life, as did your mother, though I know it doesn't really feel like it. I can't say I'll miss him, but if it makes ye feel any better, I'm not happy he's gone, either. My scouts warn me when danger threatens my Clan. Bram and Allina did well to remind me that not all danger brings an army and carries a sword."

I have nothing to say to that, other than to dip my head respectfully and acknowledge his words with a quiet, "Laird." Thankfully he falls silent and leaves me to my stewing in my own thoughts. I know there's wisdom in his words but I can't see it over the anger that still almost blinds me after the funerals. My father's talents were in scouting and not planting vegetables. Even with the famine in our land, even when he became too weak to go scouting and was able to be at home for an entire cycle of tilling and planting and tending and harvesting, I still feel wronged by how he was never able to grow a sufficient crop to feed his own family. And he could never fight properly with the Clan's warriors, always having to resort to lowly tricks like tripping the feet or even throwing dust in the eyes in order to win. It kept him alive, true, but the longer he lived the more his name was mocked for fighting without honor. And now his name was mine and mine alone.

Before long the celebratory atmosphere and a full stomach has my anger receding. Once I've eaten more food in a single sitting than I have for as long as I can remember, The McKinnon surprises me by nudging my shoulder. "How old are you, lad?" 

"I've seen sixteen summers, Laird."

"Have you ever lain between a woman's legs, lad?" His question has my face heating up. My parents and I were fairly isolated, what with my father having no talent for reiving, so I'm not used to being asked such personal questions. He laughs. "I'll take that as a no." He looks up and scans the room. "Myra," he calls out to a woman wearing a dress so low cut her breasts are in danger of falling out. When she approaches, I can see that her red hair is plaited in neat rows along her scalp, the ends reaching beyond her waist.

She curtsies when she stops in front of our table. "How may I be of assistance, Laird?" She glances at me and I feel her gaze all the way to my toes.

"Have you met Dean McGillis?" The McKinnon indicates me. "Well then, let me introduce you to my Second. Dean, may I introduce Myra; Myra, Dean McGillis, Second of Clan McKinnon," he says when she shakes her head.

"A pleasure, sir," she murmurs, her voice soft and melodious with what sounds to me like a hint of seduction.

The McKinnon confirms that Myra is the castle light-skirt with his next statement. "Myra here will show you what you need to know about men and women. Go with her and listen to what she has to say." I nod my understanding and stand up. "And Dean?" he calls me back. "Have fun!"

I duck my head to hide my embarrassment and follow Myra from the great hall like a dog after a bitch in heat. Every man, woman and child present knows what Myra and I are leaving to do and the men, and quite a few of the women, shout ribald bits of advice to me. My face is hot enough to start a fire all on its own. I hate being laughed at, all my life people have laughed at me. I just want it to stop.

When we get to Myra's room, she turns to me and she too laughs in my face. I can't contain my anger anymore. "If you're not going to take this seriously –" I growl, turning to leave.

"Master McGillis, please!" she pleads. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you, really. I find it endearing to meet a man such as you."

"What does that mean?" 

"Do you know how long it's been since I was with a man with less experience than me?" I shake my head. "Never. Every single man who has bedded me has been as experienced or more, than me. I find I quite enjoy the thought of being someone's first. And the fact that that someone is The Second of Clan McKinnon, well!" As she speaks, she walks up to me, getting in my personal space. She stands on her toes and wraps her hand in my hair to pull my head down so she can kiss me.

The kiss is all kinds of hot and dirty. She sticks her tongue in my mouth and strokes it along mine. I've never been kissed like this before. Hell, I've never kissed anyone before. I never knew such kisses existed. I start to reach up and put my arms around her like I've seen the men do, but on the way up my hands encounter her ample bosom and I can't seem to let go of them. After a bit, I feel a familiar tingle at the base of my spine and before I can do anything about it, I embarrass myself in the worst way possible.

Wrapping my hands around her wrists, I pull them away from my neck so I can step out of her embrace. Despite not wanting to, I lock eyes with her, praying she doesn't look down. "What we're doing isn't shameful, Master McGillis," she whispers, pressing in closer until I can feel her plump breasts against my chest.

I shake my head and push her back a bit more. "It's not that." I curse the way my voice breaks. It hasn't cracked like that in a couple of years. 

"Then what -?" Her brow crinkles in confusion for a moment before understanding dawns. "Oh, Dean," she sighs. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to men as young as you."

"How would you know?"

"You think I'm the only light-skirt in residence? I just happen to be The McKinnon's favorite. You should consider it an honor for him to offer me to you."

I drop her wrists like I've been burned and pace away from her. "Trust me, I'm very honored but now if you don't mind; I'd rather not be present for when you can no longer hold in your laughter." I place one hand on the door latch.

Her hand on my arm halts me. "I'm not going to laugh, Master McGillis. I meant it when I said it happens to men your age. Sometimes it happens to older men, too." I look over my shoulder at her. "I'd much like to show you about men and women, Master McGillis." She steps back and bows her head in submission.

"I'd like that too. You promise you won't laugh?"

"Of course." She seems surprised that I would doubt her word.

"Very well. First off, stop calling me Master McGillis when we're alone. Dean will be fine." She nods her acceptance. "Second, I really know nothing about this. I've never even kissed a girl before today."

"What about your neighbor girls?"

"Do you not know who my father is – was?"

She closes her eyes in understanding. I have a feeling she'd met my father during one of the few times he'd been invited into the castle after doing some scouting for The McKinnon. She'd known that our croft was so far on the outskirts of the clan territory that we didn't really have neighbors. I also know in my heart that he never took more than two glances at any of the light-skirts, because another thing I learned from my father was that he was very much in love with my mother and never once strayed, because he could never betray her like that. I'm brought out of those thoughts by Myra talking again. "Of course. How foolish of me to forget." When she opens her eyes, the heat in them nearly burns me everywhere it touches and I conveniently forget all about my parents. Reaching out with one delicate hand, she tugs on my belt. "How about you show me what you have under there, hm?"

"You first," I counter, settling all my weight on one foot and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Very well," she replies with a shrug. When her hands move toward her bodice, I notice for the first time that her dress doesn't look like the dresses of the other women. Where their dresses are held closed with leather laces along the side, hers is wrapped around her body and with a couple of flicks of her fingers, it parts down the middle. She shrugs it off her shoulders and I get my first ever look at a fully grown naked woman.

Her breasts are plump and high, her nipples a dusty rose color. Her body is similar in shape to that of my mother's hour glass. Her belly is flat. Between her legs is a nest of hair that is even redder than that on her head. Her legs are long and shapely, her feet tiny and delicate.

I know I'm staring but I can't help it. I never expected to be here. Correction, I fully expected to one day find some lass that would let me bed her, I just never expected to have my first time be with The McKinnon's favored whore.

With a smirk she steps closer. "And now it's your turn," she purrs, slowly undoing my belt.

My sword is still attached so she just kinda lets it fall to the side. She then gathers fistfuls of fabric and ever so slowly begins to pull my léine over my head. She drops it on top of my sword, then kneels at my feet. I feel a moment of panic. _What is she doing?_ But it passes when she merely removes my boots. She clicks her tongue when she discovers I don't have any cloth wrapped around my feet. 

"Why don't you have anything to protect your feet?" she asks, gently touching a healing blister.

I involuntarily flinch away from the slight pain of her touch. "There was barely enough money for cloth for a new léine much less enough left over for my feet. Besides, we couldn't afford boots. I went barefoot until Adair brought me here after my parents' funeral." In fact, my mother always started saving for more cloth when she began making my new léine. I had to wear them so long that I once split one down the middle of the back while chopping wood.

She looks up at me from her position on the floor. "And he didn't give you cloth for your feet? I'll have to speak to him," she says, rising gracefully to her feet.

"You will say nothing," I order.

She bows her head in consent. "As you wish." Stepping closer, she runs one finger down my chest. "This topic is ruining the mood, don't you think?" When she's close enough that her naked breasts brush against my chest, she gasps. "Or maybe not," she chuckles. "Big boy," she purrs, taking my hand and leading me to the bed where she pushes me down on it. 

I settle on my back in the middle. I've never slept on anything thicker than a simple pallet so the sound of the rope frame creaking under my weight is strange. She doesn't give me time to get comfortable before she plants one knee next to my left hip and swings her other leg over my body so that she's straddling me. 

She takes my right hand and curls all but my first two fingers which she directs between her legs. "This is where you'll be putting your prick," she tells me, sticking my fingers up inside her.

_My, God! She's wet there. Is she supposed to be wet?_

"Hm," she hums removing my fingers. Her tongue peeks out and leaves a trail of moisture along her bottom lip. When she wraps her hand around me, I can't quite bite back the gasp at how hot it is. With a bit of a wiggle, she gets me inside her and my eyes roll back in my head. I've never in my life experienced anything even remotely close to the feeling of a woman's private place wrapped around my prick. It's much hotter and wetter than I expected it to be. And it feels a hell of a lot better than my hand.

She begins to move, grunting and groaning. Myra moves my hands from where they're gripping her waist up to cup her breasts, showing me how she likes them played with. Eventually I shoot my seed within her. I'm not sure if it's too soon or not but before I even have a chance to catch my breath, she shudders and collapses on my chest, tiny tremors wracking her frame.

She has her head tucked under my chin and just when I think she's fallen asleep, I feel her lips press a kiss against the sweat slick skin of my neck. "Mm, Dean. You're going to be breaking hearts all over this castle once the lasses figure out that you know how to use the sword between your legs."

I chuckle, then groan when I slip out of her. "Now what? Do I go back to the great hall to find my pallet?"

She raises her head to look down at me. "I thought you knew."

"Knew, what?"

"This is your room, now. As Second, you get your own quarters."

 _My own quarters…_ I've never had my own room, barely had my own pallet, except when my father wanted to bed my mother, since we lived in a one-room shack. Before I can find something to say to that, Myra has my thoughts going off in another direction. "Do you mind if I stay the night? I'm sure The McKinnon won't be requesting my services this evening and I'd rather not have to fight for a pallet in the great hall."

"Of course you can stay," I say, tugging on one braid.

Her smile is blinding. She plants a kiss on my lips. "Thank you, My Lord," she whispers. "I suggest some sleep then we can begin your next lesson." She snuggles down next to me, her head on my shoulder, one arm and leg thrown over my chest.

We get very little actual sleep, but I do learn quite a lot about pleasing a woman in bed.

 

I'm startled out of my remembrances by a blast of cold water from the showerhead. I spring to my feet and fumble with the knobs. Once I've got the water turned off, I step from the tub and swipe at my wet skin with a towel before tying it around my waist. 

My thoughts are chasing themselves around in my head and so it is with some surprise that I find myself staring at a half-packed duffle sitting on my bed. I don't even remember making the decision to go anywhere but I guess my subconscious thinks it's necessary.

"Well, fuck," I mutter. Looks like I'm going on a road trip. I'd better let Carter know so that he knows to not plan on me for the next case.

With a sigh of resignation, I snatch up my phone and hit speed dial two, one is for my voicemail inbox, and extend my hearing just enough to hear the faint sound of his ringtone from downstairs. With a smirk, I tell my subconscious 'told ya'.

 _"Carter,"_ he barks into the phone on the third ring.

"It's me," I inform him.

_"You know what time it is?"_

"Yeah, do you?"

 _"What does that mean?"_ He's starting to sound irritated.

I rub one hand over my scalp. "Nothing. Look, I called to say that something's come up and I'm going to have to leave town for a bit."

_"How long is a bit?"_

"Couple of days at least. I'm hoping it won't take longer than that." _Please_ God, _don't let it take longer than that._

 _"I expect a call in exactly four days if it's going to be longer."_ I can hear him take a deep breath. _"You have any idea how much of a pickle this puts me in?"_

I squeeze my eyes shut and chew my lip. "Yeah, but it can't be helped. I have to go _now_. I swear if it could wait, I wouldn't be calling."

 _"Fine,"_ he grumbles with a sigh. _"You're not in any trouble are you?"_

A tender smile crosses my face at his concern. "No. Just have something I have to take of now before it becomes a problem. For me, personally, not for the team."

 _"Alright. But remember, I'm here if you need me."_ God, does he have any idea how that sounds? Or just how much I actually _do_ need him?

"I'll call if there's anything you can do. Promise."

I hear his soft growl of frustration at my continued refusal to confide in him. _"Be careful."_ And with that he hangs up.

That went much better than I thought it would. I scrub my hand along my scalp and down my neck where I scratch my skin with my nails, grounding myself with the slight pain.

There are only two people I can talk to about the predicament I'm currently in and one of them has too much of a peppy image to give me the answers I need, so it has to be the other one.

With a cold feeling of dread settling in the pit of my stomach, I finish dressing and packing. This is gonna be one hell of a long-ass road trip so I decide to have a snack before I go.

I pull a bag of blood from the hidden refrigerator and get a goblet down from the cabinet. For a brief second I contemplate cutting it open and emptying its contents into the goblet, then decide against it. Popping it in the microwave, I punch the buttons with more force than necessary, heating it for twenty seconds, just long enough to take the chill out of it. When the microwave dings, I remove the bag and viciously bite into it, draining it in seconds.

The blood doesn't even take the edge off my hunger, but then again, I'm fairly sure the only thing that will is feeding from Carter.

Snatching up my duffle, I take the stairs to the garage two and three at a time.

Climbing into my SUV, I point it east, heading toward the one person on this planet I swore I'd never ask for assistance, ever. I rationalize it by telling myself that he's the only one who can help. The fact that it's true doesn't help. At. All.

I break several traffic laws and end up making the trip in an hour less than it really should take, and that's with two stops along the way; one for gas and a quick feeding, and one to check the route to where I'm actually headed once I've arrived in the city proper. 

The building I pull up in front of is non-descript with a faux adobe façade that fits in perfectly with the desert motif of this part of town. Of course we _are_ in the middle of the desert so that's how it should be.

I spend a moment sitting in the car trying to find my center. Clenching and unclenching my hands on the wheel, I rehearse what I'm going to say to the man I once told to fuck off and die.

Finally, I can't sit in the car any longer without drawing undo attention, so I slide out from behind the wheel and head inside.

The lobby is exactly as I figured it would be. While this isn't my house, the men and women milling around are my brothers and sisters in arms and everyone whose eyes I meet gives me an almost identical nod of greeting; all of us recognizing another who is also on the job.

"May I help you?" a very pretty brunette sitting behind the receptionist desk asks when I approach.

With my most charming smile in place, I lean on the top of the counter. "Hey, darlin'." I wink, causing her to giggle and blush. "I'm here to see Nick Stokes. Tell him it's Dean Bendis." I give my current legal name in case anyone listening wants to protect Nick by checking up on some stranger who has come calling. And they'll find exactly what I want them to find. Namely, that I'm on the job deep under in LA.

She smiles, picks up the phone and turns to the side to whisper into the phone. I don't listen in, mostly because I already know what she's saying, 'Yeah, Nick. There's some guy here to see you. Says his name's Dean Bendis. Should I just send him away or what?' After the past couple of years that both Nick and Sylum have had, I'd be more concerned if the people he works with _weren't_ a tad protective of him.

The sound of her clearing her throat is my signal that she's done talking to Nick on the phone. "He said if you'd like to have a seat, he'll be right out." She doesn't even finish her sentence before the door to the inner sanctum of the lab opens and Nick walks out.

"Dean!" He has his arms outstretched as if he's expecting a hug. As fucking if. I just raise one brow and take a half-step back. His smile falters a bit but he rallies and lowers his arms, sticking one hand out for me to shake. I take his hand and resist the urge to squeeze, settling for just a simple up and down motion before releasing it. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

Gritting my teeth so hard that I can feel a muscle jumping in my jaw, I fight the instinct to just turn around and leave. "Call off your watch dogs," I growl.

The shutters come down over his face and I realize my mistake right away. While the casual observer wouldn't be able to tell, someone like me, who has known him for hundreds of years, can tell that I just released Nico Meridius. _Fuck! Ignoring his greeting and instead giving him an order on his own territory, what the hell was I thinking?_

"We are not having this discussion here. Give me five to finish some paperwork then you can take me to dinner." His voice doesn't even hint at the change in his demeanor. 

With a glance out the windows that show the sun is rising, I smirk and ask "Don't you mean breakfast?"

"Do you eat breakfast when you get off after working the graveyard shift?" With a shrug I concede the point. He points at the chairs lining the wall opposite. "Have a seat." And then he's turning to head back behind the door.

"I can't accompany you?" I ask. The glare he throws my way is my answer. "Guess not," I mutter when the door shuts behind him.

"He suggested you have a seat." The receptionist's voice breaks through my musings about the conversation I'm about to have.

"Just drove several hours. Don't really wanna sit right now." She smiles in understanding. "So," I purr, leaning as far over the desk as I can. "What time do you get off?"

She giggles again. "I just started my shift."

"Bummer." I pout. Chances are I won't be in the mood to socialize after my talk with Nick.

"What do you think you're doing?" a familiar voice demands from behind me.

Turning, I find myself face to face with Greg Sanders. A Chosen One of Sylum since before he was born. My eyes widen when I don't hear a heartbeat coming from the young man before me. "Hey, Greggo! Heard about your promotion to field investigator. Congrats, man." I reach out to pat his shoulder but he shies away and that's when I realize that he's angry for some reason.

"Only members of Sylum get to call me that," he snarls softly, too softly for a non-vampire to hear.

"Okay. Sorry, man." I lean back against the desk and cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time –"

With a sigh, I bow my head. What the fuck did I do to piss him off? "Does she belong to him?" I answer his question with one of my own.

"No, but –"

Again I don't let him finish. "Then what's the harm if I flirt a little?"

"She doesn't know." 

I get it now. "And you know as well as I do that that's not necessary."

Before Greg can reply to that, Nick comes back out. "You ready, Dean?"

"Yeah," I say at the same time that Greg says "But Nick!"

"Not now, Greg," Nick says softly, patting him on the shoulder as he passes. "Dean and I have a lot to talk about."

Since I don't know who knows about Nick and Sylum, I chose to wait until we're in his truck and headed out to eat before saying anything about Greg. "So, when'd Greg get Turned?"

"About a year ago. His Mate was afraid he was going to start losing his hearing again so I Turned him and then talked him through Turning Greg."

"I always figured you'd be the one to Turn Greg." Considering that Greg has the soul of Nico's youngest son, Theodosius, and what the kid went through growing up, I'm amazed Nick allowed anyone but himself to Turn Greg. 

"Yeah, me too," Nick admits, which tells me that he must have some hefty respect for Greg's Mate. Silence reigns for the rest of the drive. I'm just starting to reach my breaking point when he pulls into the parking lot of a diner that looks like it's from the 1950s.

We climb from the truck and head into the restaurant. A hostess in a Poodle skirt and beehive greets us at the door, then leads us to a booth next to the wall of windows. She hands us menus encased in plastic. "What can I get y'all to drink?" she asks, pulling a pencil from her hair and a pad of paper from the pocket of her apron.

"Coffee," we say in perfect unison.

"Pot or cup?"

"Pot."

"Got it." She pops her gum and glides away. I can't help but turn to watch her sashaying hips.

"You are such a horn dog," Nick scolds.

"I swear it wasn't like that. I was just remembering the 50s is all."

"Uh-huh. If you say so."

I bite my tongue to stop from arguing because that won't get me the info I require. "Believe what you want, Nick."

He sighs but doesn't try to continue that topic. "Why're you here, Dean?"

Before I can answer, our waitress arrives with two cups and a pot of coffee. "Y'all ready to order?"

I look at Nick who motions for me to go ahead, if I'm ready. "I'll take four eggs over easy, two slices of toast cut in triangles, six slices of bacon, six sausage links and a large glass of ice cold milk. And by ice cold, I mean I want ice cubes in it."

"You got it, sugar," she says before turning to Nick. "You want your usual, Nick?"

"Yeah, thanks, Bernice."

"Sure thing." She winks at us, collects the menus and walks away. This time I don't watch.

Nick is staring at me, his brows raised. Placing my hands flat on the table, I push back until my elbows are as straight as I can make them and once again try to find my center. "I know I swore I'd never ask for your assistance for anything but…" I blow out a frustrated breath. "I don't know who else to ask." A glance up through my lashes shows that he's not gloating, as I expected he would, but merely listening attentively. 

"I've always told you, you need only ask and if it is within my power to do so, I shall help in any way I can." He stacks his hands on top of the table and I notice for the first time that he's wearing the skull ring that Warrick gave him to celebrate the creation of Sylum. "Now, please tell me how I can help."

I don't even know where to begin. I scrub both hands over my scalp, wishing for the first time in years that I had hair I could tug on in my agitation. "Tell me about Warrick," I finally say, hoping he'll know exactly what it is I'm really asking.

He sits back in the booth and frowns at me. But it's not a frown of displeasure, it's a frown of concentration, as if he's trying to figure out where to start. "I met Warrick when he attacked one of my ships in 1723, you know this. You were there."

Damn, here I was hoping I wouldn't have to spell it out for him. "His Turning, Nick. Tell me about that."

"Why? You know that story too, even though you weren't there."

I stack my own hands on top of the table and lean forward, looking down at the stained Formica. "It's Carter. He doesn't believe and even if he did, I'm nearly positive he's straight. How do I tell him that not only am I a Vampire, but that he's my Soul Mate and I refuse to spend eternity abstaining. Or do I just wait for his next life." I haven't felt this lost and alone since my parents died. I know that my situation is nothing like Nick's with Warrick but it's pretty damn close. Close enough that maybe his cautionary tale of Turning Without Consent will help me figure out how to proceed with Carter.

"How long's it been so far?"

He would have to ask me that. "Adair was killed one thousand ninety-nine years ago. I saw him again eighty-nine years later. And then again three years ago."

He nods. "And you're willing to wait another thousand years, maybe longer, because you're what, afraid to tell your L.T. that you're a Vampire because he doesn't believe? Give me a fucking break, Dean. I know you better than that. What's the real reason?" 

Damnit! I really hate it when someone is able to read me as well as I can read them. "Carter doesn't do well with the unknown. And finding out that he's been wrong about something? Forget it. I like working on this team, Nick. I enjoy my job and the people I work with. What I'm most afraid of is that Carter will boot my ass to the curb. He didn't want to hire me in the first place."

Nick does me credit by being thoughtfully silent for a moment. "First, you need to find out if he's open to a sexual relationship. I know you and you're right, you won't be able to handle a month of abstaining from your Mate, much less eternity. Once you know that –" he trails off when the waitress brings our food.

"Anything else I can get you boys?"

"Nope, we're good." Nick smiles up at her.

"Alrighty, then." She turns on her heel with a flounce and we both dig into our breakfast/dinner.

"So," Nick says after he's taken several bites of his steak. "As I was saying, once you know for sure he's open to having a sexual relationship with you, you need to tell him about your true nature. I suggest doing it somewhere you feel safe and comfortable and make sure there isn't a bed anywhere near because that'll just distract you. And don't just blurt it out. Find some way to bring it up casually."

 _Casually, right._ I break the yolks on my eggs and dip my toast into it. "That's the thing. How does one casually say 'Oh, by the way, I'm a Vampire who has seen the end and beginning of two millennia' and do I say this before or after I ask if he's sexually attracted to me?"

"That's one I've never had to worry about. You know who you should ask that."

"Yeah, Jean-Luc." I shake my head. "I came to you instead of him because he's too settled into his role as Bonded Mate. And from what I've heard he didn't have to really worry about whether or not his Mate was attracted to him."

"Hm. You have a point. I don't know anyone who has been in the same situation as you. Maybe just start talking about your sexual conquests and let slip some info about one of the men you've fucked."

A sharp twist of my head negates that suggestion. "We're not that close."

Nick sighs, leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. "You came to me for advice, Dean. Can't help you if you won't take it."

I scrub my hands over my face and resist the urge to get up and walk away; to let my stubborn pride force me to find my own way with Carter. But I'm damn tired of being alone. "I've been alone since I was sixteen, Nick. Even when I was The Second of Clan McKinnon and shared my bed with whichever wench took my fancy, I was alone. The only time I didn't feel alone was when I was with Adair and we weren't allowed to be alone the way I wanted; the way I can be with Carter." I turn to look out the window at the passing cars. "I don't want to have to leave, Nick," I whisper. "I like LA, like working with Carter."

"You said that already," he chuckles, refilling his coffee cup and taking a sip. "What's this really about, Dean? And don't try to give me any of your bullshit."

Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I fight a grimace. "I… I have no clue how to explain it." The restless feeling is back and I begin bouncing my leg to try and get rid of it.

"You having trouble sitting still?" I nod, leg bouncing even more. He just smiles. "I know what your problem is."

His pronouncement has my eyes opening wide and my head whipping around to stare at his face. "Do you, now?" It's his turn to nod, his grin widening into a smirk. "So spill, already!" I order when he keeps silent.

"That's your instinct telling you that the time is right. That you're supposed to turn Carter."

"And if something happens where I can't?"

He shrugs. "As far as I know, no one's never not Turned their mate when they were feeling this way. Except for Byron and you know how that turned out. You have to find a way to tell him, Dean. It's now or never, just about, at this point." 

I chew my lip and stare down at my plate, trying to figure out how I'm going to accomplish that.

"Wish I could help ya, Dean, but it's obvious I can't. You can either take my advice or just fumble along on your own." _Nothing new there._

My hand is surprisingly steady when I reach for my glass of milk. Draining it, I thump it back down on the tabletop. "Guess so," I say with a resigned sigh, digging back into my breakfast.

Nick clears his throat, warning me that I'm not gonna like what's about to come. "Since I have you here –" he begins.

"I'm not ready to pledge my oath," I interrupt, anger rising.

His brows disappear into his hairline. "That's not what I was going to say, but… good to know."

My shoulders slump. I'm just fucking up left and right lately. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap."

"Not a problem." He leans forward, hands once again folded on the table. "Now, what I wanted to talk about is why you act like you can't stand me most of the time."

My hand pauses with the coffee cup half-way to my mouth. "You, um, you noticed that?"

"Hard to not notice when someone who's supposed to have your back is glaring daggers at it."

I slowly set the cup back down. "You have to understand where I came from," I start, then falter when I realize he should since his past is similar to mine.

"I do, Dean. I was a slave once, remember?"

"Then you of all people shouldn't be treating me like I'm lower than scum. I understand it from Tony because he's noble born, not that I'll take it from him. I've seen how ye look at me, heard the whispers behind me back. I took th't from th' oth'r members of me clan when I was a bairn but I foug't for th' right to be respected and I'll be damn'd if I'm gonna sit back and let ye and yer 'ruling council' make me feel like I'm nothin'." I'm so agitated that my Scot's burr is coming out in full force. I stop, growl softly and try to get control of my emotions.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I never meant to make you feel less than you are. If Tony wasn't the reincarnated soul of my daughter, I'd've asked you to be my second."

I'm still too pissed off to be shocked or touched by that little olive branch. I lean forward so that no one can overhear when I hiss, "Would have been nice if you'd've told me that _back then_!"

He has the grace to look chagrined. "You're right. I should have told you my reasons for picking Tony. But damnit, Dean! Every time we argued, you ran off to Ardeth!" he leans forward to hiss right back.

He's right. I did run away like a spoilt child that wasn't getting its way. "I didn't think you wanted me around. You certainly never acted like you wanted me there."

"Again, I'm sorry. What more do you want from me?"

I toss my napkin down on the table and begin to scoot out of the booth. "Not a damn thing. I must have lost my senses to think I could come to you with this."

"Dean." He's out of his side of the booth and standing in front of me before I can even take one step. He places one hand in the center of my chest. "If I've never said it before, let me say it now: I'm very sorry for the way you've been treated in the past. I'd like to go forward from here on better terms. So that maybe, one day, you'll feel like pledging your oath to me and Sylum."

I look down at his hand, resting directly over my heart. "But no pressure, right?" A smile spreads unbidden over my face.

He returns my grin. "How about we finish eating, hm? Get to know each other better?"

We sit back down and dig into our food, once again.

After Bernice clears out plates, he surprises me by asking, "You got any descendants?"

"Didn't think so until a couple of years ago. I was down in Orange County and met this kid. Spitting image of me."

"So how'd that happen?" He takes a bite of the cherry pie Bernice brought him.

"Only thing I can think of is one of the serving wenches from the castle. I remember one that disappeared a coupla months after I tumbled her."

"So, this kid. What's his name?"

"Trey Atwood. Don't know anything about him. It kinda freaked me out, so I just split."

Nick picks up his coffee cup and leans back in the booth. "If ya want, I could –"

"No." I shake my head. "I've done just fine all these centuries not having any blood family. Once I figure out how to Turn Carter, I won't need anything, or anyone, else."

"Okay. Just remember the offer's there."

I nod my thanks and for the first time in forever, I feel like the man truly means it, that he really wants me around and that he might even actually like my company. The rest of the morning is spent reminiscing about our travels together. Only this time there's none of the old bitterness and tons of laughter.

I swallow the darker memories for the moment and pass another few hours with Nick. Eventually he has to head off to bed, so I'm surprised at how reluctant I am to leave Nick's company, but I do. I head on back home, to LA and to Carter. 

Despite wanting to get home as quickly as I can, I decide to take my time. When I pull into the garage, a quick glance at the clock on the dash tells me it's been exactly twenty-four hours since I left. That surprise is overridden by the fact that my team's cars are parked in their spots, hidden around in the back of the garage.

The team's presence demands I take the stairs. Carter will be listening for the elevator. Grumbling under my breath, I climb from my truck, grab my bag, slam the door and head for the stairwell. I take them two at a time and enter my apartment, still ticked I had to climb the stairs when I've been awake for close to forty-eight hours.

"He said Tuesday," I mutter, kicking my duffle across the room. I begin removing my clothes and a thought occurs to me; something must have come up. Something that couldn't wait. "Well, too fucking bad. I need sleep and a shower, and not in that order."

Stripping down to nothing, I enter the bathroom and turn on the shower. I take a quick one, mostly just to rinse off the grime of the road, before collapsing face first on my bed and falling instantly asleep.

When I wake, I blink my eyes open to stare at the ceiling. Turning my head to the side, the numbers on my bedside clock tell me I've slept twelve hours. With a groan, I roll from the bed and take another shower, thanking God for whoever decided to update the Roman invention of indoor plumbing. One advantage to having a shaved head, no wet hair to give me away.

After dressing in some clean clothes, I head down the stairs and up the elevator.

Striding across the sunlit space toward Carter's desk, the clanging of the door echoing in my ears, my step falters the tiniest bit. Carter is sitting at his desk going over some papers with those adorable glasses perched on his nose. 

He glances up at me over the rims before retuning his gaze to the papers strewn over the surface of his desk. "Wasn't expecting you back for several more days," he says by way of greeting.

 _Hello to you, too, Carter,_ I think. "Yeah, well. It didn't take as long as I thought it would." _And thank God for small favors._

"Fair enough. But to go and come back in less than forty-eight?"

I give a one-shouldered shrug. "I went to Vegas," I say, then wince internally at the hard look he gives me. _Way to go, Dean! Make him think you lied about why you took off._ "I swear I went to see a friend about a personal matter. I can give you his name, he works for the crime lab of the LVPD, if you want to check up on me."

"If you say you went to talk to a friend, I believe you," he tells me but somehow I get the feeling he doesn't really but isn't in the mood to go into it now. 

"So," I say, clapping my hands together. "Why's everyone here when you said Tuesday?"

"A young girl has gone missing. We've tracked her to a child prostitution ring," Ty speaks up, stepping up to me to hand me a file folder.

I flip it open and am instantly sickened by the age of the girls in question. I may be from a period in history when most girls were married and had their first child by the time they were twelve but I never have been attracted to anyone that young. I prefer my bed partners to be twenty-five at the youngest. Of course if they _look_ like they might be eighteen or younger that's just fine.

"I want you and Ty to enter as clients," Carter says, removing his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"Naw, a client won't ever get close enough to the boss." I shake my head. "What you need is a supplier with a product that the boss can't pass up."

Carter shoots down my suggestion. "We don't have any officers who fit the profile."

"I know someone. He's worked undercover before."

Carter just blinks at me. "I can't let a civilian do this, Dean."

"I'll take full responsibility for him. And trust me when I say that the boss won't be able to not meet him. He's a delicious little morsel." I could bite my tongue for letting that slip. But the look on Carter's face tells me that either he didn't catch my meaning or he's cool with the fact that I sleep with men and women.

"How old is he?"

"Old enough but he looks fifteen."

Carter looks from me to Ty and back. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do; Ty's gonna go in as a client and Dean, you're gonna go in as a supplier. You sure you can get your foot in the door?"

I nod. "I'm sure I can find someone who can get me where I need to be."

"Get to it, then." And with that he dismisses us by replacing his glasses and turning his attention back to the papers on his desk.

Jaimie clears her throat gaining my attention. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Coupla hours ago." By which I mean it's been a coupla days.

She nods, chewing on her lip all thoughtful-like. "Why don't you come into the kitchen with me. I got some sandwich fixings. I can make you one."

"Man ate just a few hours ago, Jaimie. Plus he's a big boy. I'm sure he can make his own sandwich." Carter doesn't even look up.

"I don't mind, Carter. I can give Dean some more info about the case while I fix him something to eat."

Carter just shrugs and I know that that means his attention is no longer on either of us. I share a look with Jaimie and turn to follow her around the partition that separates the main area from the kitchen.

She steps into my arms the instant we're out of Ty and Carter's line of sight. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist. "You really should have worn a skirt," I growl, pressing her back against the wall and slipping one hand up under her shirt. I tug the cup of her bra down and palm her breast. She wraps one hand around the back of my skull and urges me to feed from her.

I lick a stripe up her neck before plunging my fangs into her vein. She shudders and gives a contented sigh, her hips rocking back and forth against mine. Twisting her nipple between my fingers, I make her come apart in my arms much sooner than I usually do, and she whines low in her throat in protest when she realizes I'm cutting it short. Whispering soothing sounds in her ear, I lower her feet to the floor. "Don't have time for a full feeding right now, not with Carter and Ty right out there."

"You're right, of course." I keep my hands on her hips until she's steady on her feet. She slips from my gasp and heads toward the fridge. "So what do you like, mayonnaise or mustard?"

"Mayonnaise."

"Roast beef, turkey or ham?" She begins taking items out and placing them on the island in the center of the room.

"Yes."

She blinks at me in surprise. "What, all of them?"

"Yes."

"I…" she stops and clears her throat. "I, uh. Hm. I'm not sure how to –"

"Ask how I can eat if my heart doesn't beat anymore?" She nods. "Here." I take her hand and place it on my chest where my heart is beating, slowly, but still beating. "After each feeding it beats once every minute for about an hour, to help me digest any solid food I've eaten recently. Since I still need to appear Human."

"Oh, okay. That's – that's cool." She snatches her hand back the instant I let go of her wrist. "Anything else on your sandwich?"

"Lettuce, tomato if you got it." I lean against the counter and watch her nimble fingers.

"Want it cut in half?"

"Nope." I snag the sandwich off the counter and take a huge bite while walking back out to the main area.

Carter is still sitting at his desk drowning in paperwork and Ty is sitting at his with his feet up on it, texting someone; Melissa most likely.

I lean against Jaimie's desk and finish swallowing my bite. "So, I forgot to ask Jaimie why this girl's case fell in our laps." I pick up the folder with one hand and take another bite of the sandwich.

"She's some ambassador's daughter. China, I think" Ty doesn't even glance up from his phone to answer.

"Japan," I correct, staring at the picture of a pretty Japanese girl in a school uniform. _Can't they see the difference? It's all in the eyes._ The overwhelming silence has me looking up at the three of them staring open-mouthed at me. "What? It says it right here in her file." I raise the folder. "Besides, her name is a dead give-away. Sato Aiko. Very common Japanese name."

Carter pulls off his glasses, still looking at me like I've grown a second head. "I think you got that backwards. It's Aiko Sato."

"Actually, it's not. Traditional Japanese will give their surname first, since they belong to the clan, and their first name second."

"And you know this, how, exactly?" Carter's tone tells me I had better have a very believable reason for this.

Holding Carter's gaze, I give him as much of the truth as I can. "I spent some time in Japan in the 90s." What I don't say is it was the 1290s through the 1390s. Actually became a Samurai, one of the ones responsible for the Emperor. 

"Uh-huh. And you never mentioned this before…because?" Ty demands.

I shrug. "Never saw it as important."

"You speak Japanese?" A very reasonable question from Jaimie.

"Yep."

"Isn't it difficult to learn? I mean all those nuances and such." Leave it to her to wonder something like that.

"Actually, English is much more difficult; although not as difficult as Mandarin Chinese." Another language I speak.

"English shouldn't have been that difficult for you since you grew up speaking it," Ty jumps in.

I actually grew up speaking Scottish Gaelic. When I finally decided to learn English it seemed to take no time at all. The fact that I was learning it from tavern wenches is probably why. Of course the fact that I wasn't developing my polite company conversation skills could be why I found it so much fun. 

"We're getting off topic, guys," Carter grumbles. "You speak any other languages, Dean?"

"Enough French to impress the ladies and enough Spanish to survive in East LA." Actually I speak the language of every first world country and most of the third world ones, too, but they don't need to know that, not yet.

"Okay, people. Let's get to work," Carter states, putting an end to any further discussion about my various skills. "Dean," he calls before I can take a single step toward the door. "A word, please."

This can't be good. He never wants a private word unless I've done something wrong.

I shift my weight on the corner of the desk where I'm leaning and wait for Ty and Jaimie to leave.

Carter, that bastard, keeps me waiting for several minutes after they leave before he even looks up at me. He removes his glasses, tosses them down on the desk and leans back in his chair. "Tell me about this guy you have in mind as your way in."

"All you need to know is he's most definitely legal but looks about fifteen."

He purses his lips and reaches out to play with his pen. "Don't tell me what I need to know, Dean. Now spill."

Sighing deeply, I scrub my hands over my face. There's no way I can tell him what he wants to know. "Seriously, Carter. How can me telling you this guy's life story make any difference?"

"Because I told you to tell me?"

I drop my gaze to the floor and rub one hand along the back of my neck. "I'm going to have to respectfully refuse to follow that order. It's not that I don't want to tell you; it's that it's not my story to tell."

"What the hell does that mean?" He's starting to get angry and this isn't going to end well.

"You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Try me." His tone is clipped, curt, promising dire consequences if I don't roll over and show him my tender underbelly. 

I brace my hands next to my hips on the desk. _Here goes nothing._ "It's classified."

The look on Carter's face tells me to hurry along to the punch line. "You had better be kidding."

Stretching my legs out in front of me, I meet his gaze head on. "Wish I was."

He leans forward and stacks his hands on top of his desk. "You're telling me that this kid's past is 'eyes only'?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And you know it, how?" And oh man is he getting pissed. Soon he's gonna stop being polite and then it'll get ugly.

Time to lie, and God how I'm starting to hate that I have to. "Don't, exactly. I've worked with him enough to know the important things."

"Like?"

"Like he can kick my ass without breaking much of a sweat, and he's a much better shot than I am. Sniper level, before you ask."

"And you're positive that the target will like your guy's look so much that he'll demand to meet you two in person?"

"Oh, yeah. He just oozes sex. I've yet to see anyone refuse him when he turns on the charm."

"Even you?"

This is my chance. I've found my opening and now I'm striking, at least to get a measure of him. "Would it bother you if I did?"

To my happy surprise, Carter just shrugs and begins picking the papers up off his desk. "That's between you and your god."

"Good to know. Oh, and for the record, I'll never bring it here; never let it get in the way of the job."

"See that you don't." It's a dismissal if ever I heard one, so I push myself upright and leave the loft.

Twenty minutes later finds me leaning against the doorjamb to a converted garage in a middle class neighborhood watching a handsome young man molding a lump of clay on a potter's wheel. "Neilson," I drawl, knowing how much it irritates him.

"Dean," he responds curtly.

"It just kills you that I don't have a last name you can use, doesn't it? Especially since I know that that's how you keep distance between yourself and others."

"Could always call you McGillis." He hasn't once looked up, all his focus centered on the pattern he's trying to put on the clay.

"Could, but that's no longer my name and neither is Bendis, not really."

"It is your current legal name, though."

"True. But that'll change with my next life."

He sighs and I can tell he's decided he's not going to be able to win this particular argument. "You gonna tell me just what it is you've committed me to?"

"Once you've finished with that pretty pot you're making."

He removes his hands from the lump of clay and lets it kinda fold in on itself. Once the wheel stops spinning, he leans over and opens a bucket sitting on the floor next to him. Unfolding the plastic inside, he takes the clay he had been working with and places it on top of the clay in the bucket and replaces the lid.

"Didn't mean for you to stop working now."

"Eh, it wasn't working right. Couldn't get the picture from my head onto the clay." He stands up and walks over to the washtub next to the door where I'm standing. "You gonna give me any hint as to why you're here?" He begins to scrub up, and I take the time to reacquaint myself with his looks. I've known him his whole life and it never ceases to amaze me how he doesn't really ever change, no matter how old he gets.

Jonathan Neilson, born Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill, is a fifty-something man trapped in the body of a fifteen year-old through no fault of his own. Several years ago an Asgard named Loki tried to solve their cloning problem by examining Jack's DNA. What Loki didn't know is that Thor had put a failsafe in Jack's DNA preventing just such an occurrence. What we ended up with is two Jack O'Neill's. One who still looks the proper age and one who looks more than half that. 

The O'Neills have been Chosen for Sylum for generations, and Jack and I have danced around an attraction since he hit puberty. By the time he was old enough for us to do anything about it, he had decided to join the Air Force which meant we couldn't actually act on our attraction since I'm not out as a Vampire. But when Jonathan showed up at my door and looked at me with Jack's eyes and spoke with Jack's words, if not his voice, I couldn't say no when he propositioned me.

His hair is so full of cowlicks he has to wear it either military short or to his shoulders long. He's currently wearing it pulled back in a pony. Give him some stubble and a gold hoop in his left ear and he'd look like a pirate. He's whipcord thin and tends to go around wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare sweatpants that just barely hang on to his hips. When messing with his clay, he throws an apron on to protect himself from being splattered. 

I give a quick shake of my head when I realize I've been quiet for a little too long, and he'd asked me a question. "I'd rather not discuss it out here." 

He looks up at me sharply, and I know he can hear everything I've been fighting recently in my voice. Removing the apron, he places it on a peg by the door and then leads the way into his kitchen.

I take a seat at the table where I can watch him moving around the space; he's always been graceful but being given a second chance at being a teenager has made him even more so. What is it most adults say, 'If I only knew then, what I know now'? Well, Jonathan now knows at 'fifteen' what Jack O'Neill knows at fifty-something.

He opens the fridge and takes out two beers. His identification says he's twenty-one but only because it's been six years since he was 'born'. Slinging one leg over a corner of the table, I try and not leer but damn, the boy's sex personified. When he turns to hand me my bottle, he smirks which tells me I was unsuccessful in keeping my feelings off my face. 

Tipping the bottle to my lips, I take a long swig and watch as he does the same. He sets his bottle on the table, pulls mine from my lax fingers and sets it next to his, then pushes my leg off the table so he can straddle my lap.

"Mm. Seems to me like you have something rather pressing on your mind."

Chuckling softly, I slide my hands up his back to his shoulders so I can pull him down for a bone-melting kiss. He begins to slowly rock back and forth and I can feel his erection plain as day through his pants.

It's been close to two weeks since I've gotten laid, not that that's all that unusual, and with everything that's transpired in the past seventy-two hours I need to take the edge off before I can have the conversation I need to have with him. So I push him off my lap, spin him around until he's facing the table and tug his pants down to his knees. I place one hand in the middle of his back to make sure he stays where I want him to, not that he'd try to get up when he knows what's about to happen. Unbuckling my belt one-handed is a feat I've mastered over the years. Pulling my belt from the loops, I wind it around Jonathan's wrists, pulling a groan of pure need from deep within him. Who knew that Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill had a kink for being tied up while being fucked. Jonathan has a hook hidden under the edge of the table for just such an occasion so my hands are now free for me to undo my fly. Not that I need both hands. Whoever invented button-fly jeans is a fucking genius in my book. It only takes a second to pop open all the buttons and reach inside to pull out my erect dick.

"Damn," I mutter. "Just realized –"

"In the napkin holder," he supplies.

"Ah. You are one strange man, you know that?"

"I've discovered it pays to be prepared."

"Don't tell me you learned that from The Boy Scouts because I happen to know you never were one."

"You gonna talk or fuck?" he demands, the last word ending in a very unmanly squeak when I shove three fingers in his ass and immediately begin rubbing on his prostate.

A low pitched whine begins in the back of his throat and I decide I've teased him long enough. Slicking up my cock, I slowly slide in, doing my best to avoid his prostate. I keep the pace slow but deep. I've been fucking him off and on for six years so I know how he likes it. He usually prefers it hard and fast, something about having to be quick so as to avoid getting caught in the service. But I also know how he needs it most of the time and despite hovering on the edge for the past three days, I know he needs it just as slow as I do right now.

"Fuck me, you motherfucker!" he yells.

"I am fucking you. And I can't believe I let you kiss me with that filthy mouth."

"Fuck you!"

I happen to know he's just trying to goad me into giving him what he wants. "Naw. Maybe later, though. If you'll lie there and just take it like a good little boy." I lean down and lick his right ear. "Can you do that, Jonathan?" From my position draped over his back, I can feel the tremors running through his frame. "You gonna beg me for it, _Boy_?" I've never really been into the really kinky stuff or dirty talk, but Jonathan seems to get off on it. I can hear him gulp. He just nods his head in response. "Can't hear your head rattle. Gonna have to actually say the words."

"Yes, just –" he trails off, panting hard, his heart beating to beat the band.

"Just, what?"

"Please!" he wails, and that's all I need.

Keeping one hand in the middle of his back, my thumb pressing against the T8 vertebra, I straighten back up. I increase the pace until my hips are slapping wetly against his ass cheeks, making them jiggle obscenely.

He's grunting with each of my thrusts. The force of which has the beer bottles clinking against each other. I can see his reflection in the glass of the kitchen door. My vision is starting to grey around the edges when he stiffens under me, his hands reaching for something only he can see, and lets out a sound that I don't usually hear until after several hours of steady fucking. I usually squeeze my eyes shut from the force of my own orgasm but something has me keeping them open this time and the look on his face is incredible; his eyes are bugged out and his mouth is open on a silent scream of ecstasy. His muscles rhythmically clamping down on me is enough to pull me over the edge after him.

The harsh sound of his breathing is interrupted by the resounding slap of my palm landing on the table next to his right shoulder when I catch myself before I collapse completely on top of him. I run my thumb up his spine, counting off the vertebra as I go. He breathes out as I press down, getting even more boneless. I know that the only things keeping him from slithering off the table to land in a puddle on the floor at my feet are the belt tied around his wrists and my softening dick in his ass.

"Nearly forgot what a great fuck you are," I say, slapping him on the ass before pulling out with a groan. "That has to be my least favorite part." I start to reach for the belt wrapped around his wrists. "You gonna stay upright if I undo this?"

"I think so, yeah." He doesn't sound so sure but I unwrap it anyway and step back until I can sit back down in the chair.

He slowly pushes himself upright and then pulls his pants back up. Grabbing his beer bottle he turns with a slight wince and makes his way out of the kitchen. "Living room. Much more comfortable."

I follow, enjoying the view of him from behind. He flings himself down in an armchair with a leg draped over one arm. I take a seat in a chair set at a ninety degree angle to his, my beer dangling from between two of my fingers by the neck. When I start to put my booted feet up on the coffee table, he makes a noise in the back of his throat. I look at him, one brow raised, and he snaps, "Shoes!" With a smirk, I toe off my boots and put my now bootless feet up on the table, one ankle crossed over the other. 

"Alright, Dean. Tell me just why you're here."

"What makes you think I'm here for anything other than to just see you?"

He chokes on his laughter. "Uh-huh. No. Now, spill."

"Kidnapping."

He sighs, and I know he's feeling exactly what Carter feels. "I swear, it's like pulling teeth," he grumbles. "Why is this LAPD's problem and not the FBI's?"

"It's been a week and there's been no ransom request." I scoot down even further into the chair. "The girl's young, just turned fifteen, and very pretty."

"Oriental?" I nod. "Hm. Japanese?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"They seem to be hot right now with the sex slavers."

"Didn't say it was for the sex trade." I raise one eyebrow.

He chuckles. "Didn't have to. Pretty teenage Japanese girl gets kidnapped and there's no ransom, can only be one thing. How can I help if they're taking girls?"

"I made some calls on my way over here. There are reports of boys going missing and the circumstances are similar to Aiko's case. We really need something that'll make sure the main guy will want to meet the supplier and product in person and there aren't any female officers that fit the bill. And before you ask, all the male officers _look_ like they're cops."

"And you're positive that I'll be enough to get this guy to meet us?"

"Oh, yeah." I just smirk when he presses his lips together when I don't elaborate.

"You're an ass," he growls. "Explain."

"All the boys that have been taken have been your opposite. They've been good looking, but not pretty, and muscular jocks. Everyone I talked to said he's obviously into the boys, but not the girls, because he personally examines each boy but only looks at pictures of the girls. The boys that have been offered were obviously not his type because he never asked for time alone with them, just sent them on to wherever he was sending them. I'm thinking you're more his type; whipcord thin and pretty."

"What makes you think he hasn't already been offered someone who looks like me?"

"Last boy was taken six months ago and he was just like all the ones before him."

"So his suppliers haven't figured out his type, huh?"

"Guess not. But that's our gain because he will be all over both of us as soon as he sees your picture."

"About that…" He shifts in his seat, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I got something for you to wear in the car. We don't have to take explicit pictures, just something that'll get his attention. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"That mean you'll be taking said pictures?" He's staring at where his fingers are picking at the label on his beer bottle and I can't tell if he wants me to say yes or no.

"Of course." I lower my feet to the floor and lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

"Yeah, okay. Anyone else gonna see these?" Ah! I get it now. He doesn't want this to get back to _him_.

"He won't ever see it, if that's what you're worried about. But there are several people who have to."

"I can handle that. I may hate that he has my life, but I swore I'd never bring myself to his notice when I walked away. He hates me enough as it is. If he was to find out that I acted on some of his deeper fantasies –" he trails off, looking up at me from under his lashes.

I chuckle. He has a point. Once Jack decided to join the military he had to put some of his less conventional wants aside and basically deny they ever existed, except for when he's a donor and of course once he Bonds with Daniel. "I will do my best to make sure he never knows that you've been living the life he once thought about having."

He nods and silence descends for a moment. "So that outfit you got for me?" He's still avoiding my eyes and I can't figure out why. It's not like he's the shy type. In fact back when Jonathan first showed up on my doorstep he suggested things that would have had me blushing if I was still alive.

I doubt I'll be able to figure it out at this moment in time, so with a mental shrug, I stand and make my way to the front door because it takes me past his chair. When I draw even with him, I run my hand over his hair, something he usually hates but his confusing behavior continues with him leaning into my touch and reaching out one hand to snag his fingers in my pocket.

I crouch down so that I'm eye level with him. "Talk to me, Jonathan."

For several minutes I think he's not going to answer but just as I begin to stand back up he says "Daniel" in a broken voice and most of my questions are answered.

My heart breaks a little at his tone. For the past decade Jack has known he's Daniel's Mate and has been waiting as patiently as he can for Daniel to notice. Then six years ago, he became another person, with a brand new soul and has had to learn to live with the fact that he no longer has the right to call himself Daniel's Mate. "Your Mate is out there." I do my best to reassure him but I don't think it's working.

He shakes his head. "That's not it." He sighs and slumps further into the chair. "Go get the outfit so we can do this."

"If you don't –" I begin but he puts two fingers to my lips.

"Just go, Dean. You need me to get this sicko, and there's no way he's gonna want me without seeing at least one picture."

He's right, of course. Pressing a quick kiss to his fingertips, I stand up and continue on out the door and to my car. Grabbing the garment bag and my camera bag from the backseat, I drape the garment bag over one shoulder and sling the strap of the camera bag over the other shoulder. When I re-enter the house, I find Jonathan slouched so far down in his chair that his head is resting on the arm in such a way that he can watch the door. I toss the garment bag onto the couch and drop the camera bag on the coffee table.

He spins around and sits up. "What'd ya bring me?" I pick up the garment bag and unzip it, pulling the sides back to reveal the private school uniform within. "You got some Catholic school fantasy you want to tell me about?" he snickers.

I just roll my eyes. "All the kids have been students at private schools. Not sure why, but my contacts suggested I keep that theme going."

He levers himself up and steps over to where I'm standing holding the garment bag. Lifting one hand he touches the blank insignia patch. "There's no school logo."

"I know. It's from a costume shop but that won't be a problem. I'll be photo shopping in some blurs to make it look like there was a logo because all the logos are blurred out in the photos of the kids."

He lifts his gaze to mine, and I see the instant he figures out what that means. "They do that so that the kids can't be identified by picture alone unless someone with access to all the local databases comes across it."

"And even then it'd still be quite a long shot to identify off facial recognition alone."

"Yeah, I suppose." He frowns and fingers the lapel of the jacket. "So, um, how, uh, how we gonna do this?"

"Why don't we wait until morning so that you're a bit more alert?"

He tilts his head and eyes me out of the corner of his eye. "You saying I'm not alert now?"

I can't stop the grin from spreading across my face. "Oh, you're alert alright; just want you to be at your best for the pictures."

"That mean no more sex tonight?" He bites his lower lip and looks up at me with what I'm sure he thinks is a 'come and get me' look.

A snort of laughter manages to escape. "Until just now, in the kitchen, I hadn't had sex in two weeks. What do you think?"

"I think," he purrs, tapping me in the center of my chest with one finger. "That we need to decide who tops."

"Oh, so you're not going to make good on your promise from earlier?" I put on a mock pout.

"If you can catch me, I'll fuck your brains out." He spins on his heel and sprints for the stairs.

I chase him up the stairs and through the hall, entering his room just behind him. Lowering my shoulders, I tackle him to the bed where we engage in our own brand of foreplay. Namely wrestling and mussing the sheets even more. By the time we have both returned to Earth after touching the stars, we're so exhausted we just fall asleep, not even caring that we're sticky as hell.

I wake the next morning to find myself curled on the very edge of the bed which isn't unusual for me. The sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains. I've always been an early riser. I can feel the heat of my bed partner's body at my back, telling me that I have woken before Jonathan, again not unusual. I've never needed much sleep and now that I'm a vampire I need even less. Twisting around, I can see that Jonathan has spread out to occupy the portion of the bed that my position has left empty. He's sprawled on his stomach, his arms wrapped tight around his pillow.

I slowly roll from the bed, doing my best to not wake him. Despite how ingrained all of Jack's mental/instinctual sentinels are, Jonathan has been alone long enough to know when he's safe and when he isn't. And I fall under the umbrella of people who are safe. He stirs a bit before settling down and slipping even deeper into slumber.

I stop off in the bathroom just long enough to clean off the evidence of last night before heading downstairs for some coffee. Exiting the bathroom, I can see Jonathan still sprawled carelessly in the bed and it makes my mouth water and my fangs extend. It's been several days since I've had a complete meal from a live donor, and I'm hungrier than I have been in years but I want – no, _need_ – to wait until after the pictures before feeding from Jonathan. He's so pale that I'm afraid even the amount I'd take for a snack would make it even more noticeable and that will not make the target want to meet him.

I jog down the stairs, very comfortable with my nakedness, and enter the kitchen to find that Jonathan has an automatic coffeemaker and it was set to come on ten minutes ago. Taking a mug down from the cabinet, I swap it out for the carafe, managing to not spill a single drop. Lifting the mug, I inhale deeply of the aromatic steam rising from within it and am mildly surprised at the rich flavor. 

_Wonder if Jonathan is in touch with Greg,_ I muse, taking a sip. I close my eyes in bliss at the full flavor that explodes over my tongue.

When I open my eyes again, I half expect to see Jonathan standing in front of me. He must be more tired than I thought if he's still asleep.

I drink down half my cup, refill it then head back upstairs to find he's now rolled over onto his right side and is curled up in a loose ball on the edge of the bed.

Sitting down in the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, I sip my coffee and watch him sleep. From the day Jack was born, I've been watching over him, per his mother's request and, even though she had passed before Jonathan was 'born', her request was transferred to him. There was just something about her that had everyone just about bending over backward to make sure she was happy.

When I met Sally O'Neill she was still Sally Adams. She was a very beautiful woman, and I ended up being one of just a handful of Vampires who actually fed from her with any regularity. Despite being deep in the desert when she became engaged to David O'Neill, I came back for the wedding, because she asked me to. 

The unofficial rules of Sylum state that only the ruling members attend birthing ceremonies but Sally and I had become such great friends that I was the second person she called when she found out she was pregnant with Jack and when the time came for him to be made an official Chosen, she wanted me there, as her friend.

The day was gorgeous with the sun shining high in the sky and just a few wispy clouds slowly drifting by on a light breeze. 

Nick wasn't happy to see me at the church, and I could tell he thought about ordering me to leave but he, like everyone else, didn't want to upset Sally and since she had requested my presence at the ceremony he had to let me stay. I stood in the back, next to Sally's father, and watched as Nick pierced his thumb with one fang and squeezed a drop of his blood into Baby Jack's mouth, declaring him to one and all a Chosen of Sylum.

Afterward, Sally approached where I was standing near the door and handed him to me. It was the first time I'd actually seen him since I had been in Scotland for a brief and very frustrating visit when he was born. As I stood there, holding him, his mother asked me to protect him, to watch over him all of his days. She said she had no doubts that other members of Sylum will also watch over him, but wanted to know that someone she considered a brother was helping to make sure he lived to adulthood.

Due to my promise to Sally O'Neill, I stayed mostly in the US during Jack's childhood. Jack was a typical boy, climbing trees, scraping his knees, getting into fights and generally giving his mother a hard time. 

I had always thought Jack looked more like his father than his mother, but Jonathan seems to look more like Sally and I'm not sure how that's possible since he's Jack at fifteen and he looks just like Jack did at that age.

My memories are interrupted by the sound of Jonathan rolling over and grunting in displeasure when his searching hand encounters the empty space where I should be. He blinks his eyes open, a frown of confusion pulling his brows down over his nose until he finally locates where I'm sitting. Our gazes lock and he gives me his most seductive smile. "Come back to bed," he purrs, stretching sensuously, the sheet slipping down far enough for me to see that he's sporting a very impressive morning erection.

"Much as I'd love to, we have pictures to take so I can get this sick bastard off the streets before he abducts anymore kids."

One thing Jonathan does better than Jack ever did is pout. He gives me his best pout now and it's almost enough to make me reconsider. "Fine. Just give me ten minutes to get cleaned up." He gets out of the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

With a fond smile, I push myself out of the chair and step into my jeans, deciding to leave them unbuttoned. If the photo shoot goes as I think it will, he won't want to wait for me to get my fly undone. Then again, neither will I.

I head downstairs and over to the coffee table. Opening the camera bag, I pull out a high-end digital camera. Turning it over in my hand, I proceed to make sure everything is as it should be.

Ten minutes on the nose, Jonathan comes down the stairs wearing just a pair of briefs. When I raise an eyebrow at his choice of underwear, he reminds me that most teenage boys tend to wear briefs. Something about not wanting their junk swinging free in the locker room at school.

"So you have some place in particular you want to take these pictures?" He begins putting on the uniform and damn if he doesn't look good enough to eat.

"Not really. You got anything that looks like it could be a classroom?"

"Not exactly but I do have an old desk that looks like the type a teacher might have. It's in a back corner of the garage and is set up against the wall. Think you could photo shop in a black or white board?"

"I'm sure I can. One of the good things about being around when software is invented, or rather, knowing the person who created it, is that you tend to be an expert with it."

He snickers and finishes knotting his tie. "Alrighty, then. Follow me." 

We enter the garage and walk past his pottery wheel and through another door and into a small room with a metal desk pushed against the wall opposite.

"If we pull it out from the wall, we can put that chair behind it. Unless you think we don't need it?"

"No, the story I plan to use is that I'm a groundskeeper at your school and I befriended you when you'd eat lunch by yourself on the football field bleachers, and once I gained your trust I snuck you in after school to take these pictures in my boss' office. Of course that means I won't need a black board." I shrug. "So it's good that you don't already have one set up behind the desk."

"If you say so." We move the desk back from the wall just far enough that we can get the chair behind it. "So how do you want me?"

"Natural. We'll start with pictures of you just standing there. Then just do whatever feels right. Remember you're letting the man who has shown you the attention you're not getting from other sources take pictures of you. You just might even be falling in love, or at least you think you are. And you want to please me so that I don't leave you alone again."

"Thought about this some, have we?" The smile that spreads across his face at that is just too beautiful to pass up so I begin taking pictures.

"Take your hair down and muss it a bit. You know, get it in your face like the teenagers today wear it?" He does as instructed. "Perfect." I snap several more shots. "You can move around, ya know." I don't stay still either, moving to the left, then the right to make sure I get just the right angle. 

Jonathan is a natural at this. He knows which poses show him best and makes sure he's in them by the time I press the shutter release. 

We start with shots of him standing in front of the desk, looking right at the camera, hands in pockets and a slight smile on his face. After he takes his hair down, I get lots of shots of him looking up through his lashes and hair, most with his lower lip caught between his teeth. Then he moves on to loosening his tie and opening the top two buttons of his shirt. Next, he removes his jacket and pulls his shirt tails out of his pants. He licks his lips and leans against the corner of the desk, his hands clasped in front of him. He scoots back until he can prop one foot on the edge and leans back on his hands. He rests all his weight on one hand and removes his tie with the other before opening several more buttons. Watching all this through the viewfinder of the camera has my dick twitching with interest. I'm very much aware of the exact moment when he realizes what effect his show is having on me. His behavior changes instantly and I can see his cock starting to harden through the linen of his pants.

A smirk graces my face. "He's gonna love that this is turning you on," I say. "How about you start removing your clothes now?"

His pupils dilate even further as his arousal increases. He sits up and begins to slowly remove his shirt, then he moves over until he's in the very middle of the desk and spreads his legs obscenely wide and leans back on his hands. In this position the tent in his pants is very noticeable. He kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks. Then he places one foot on the desk and, resting all his weight on one hand, undoes his fly and shoves his hand inside. For several minutes his teases me by jacking himself inside his pants where I can't see.

"Tease," I growl, snapping away while trying to figure out how to get this over with sooner rather than later so I can fuck his brains out and have my first meal in almost a week.

"Ya know ya love it when I tease." He throws back his head and lets out a full-bodied laugh the likes of which I haven't heard out of Jack in longer than is probably healthy.

The sight of a truly happy Jonathan has me stunned for a moment and in my amazement, I forget to keep taking pictures. He, of course, notices and decides to up his teasing by running his hand slowly up his chest, trailing just his fingertips over his skin, causing goosebumps to form. He draws circles around his navel before continuing up to his nipples. He twists, pinches and flicks them with his nails.

I shake myself out of the fugue the sight before me has pulled me into just in time to get several shots of him teasing himself. He then does something that has me wishing I didn't have to keep snapping pictures; he sucks on his middle finger, imitating fellatio, and I so very much want it to be my dick and not his finger. He ends his impromptu show by biting the tip and giving me a look worthy of a porn star. If he doesn't stop, he's not gonna be able to sit for weeks by the time I'm through with him.

He trails his spit wet finger back down his chest, then turns around so that he's kneeling on the desk with his back to me. Turning his head, he looks at me over his shoulder and lowers his pants with a wiggle of his hips. He has managed to surprise me by not lowering his underwear but he doesn't leave me guessing as to why for long. After sucking on his middle finger for a few seconds, he reaches around behind him and slips his hand into his briefs. I can tell he's running it in circles around his hole.

"You are so getting the fucking of your life if you don't stop that!" I say, taking a moment to adjust my growing hard-on.

"That's the plan, Old Man." His laughter echoes through the room.

I decide to let his comment pass when he pushes his underwear down before lying on his side so he can pull them off with his pants. We end the photo shoot with him reclining half on his side and half on his stomach, effectively hiding the Air Force tattoo he has on his right hip. If the target requests a full on frontal picture, I'll have to airbrush it out.

I drop the camera in the bag, not even caring if it gets damaged, and stalk over to where Jonathan's stretched out seductively on the desk. "You are such a slut," I growl, shoving against his hip until he rolls over onto his back. Hooking my arms under his legs, I pull him toward me until his butt is hanging over the edge and I can just slam home. "Damn, Jon. When you asked for ten minutes I didn't think you meant so you could prep yourself."

He just smirks up at me and stretches his arms over his head, arching his back. "I knew you wouldn't be able to wait and didn't want to walk with a limp. Didn't think you'd mind."

"Didn't say I did." I slowly thrust in and out several times before urging him to wrap his legs around my waist so I can slide my hands under his back and lift him up. 

When he wraps his arms around my shoulders, I lick a stripe up his neck and then plunge my fangs deep into the artery throbbing there. He lets out a moan as I begin to drink. I close my eyes in bliss as the metallic sweet taste of his blood flows over my tongue. I run one hand roughly up his back so I can grab a fistful of his hair and pull his head back, causing the blood to pump faster into my mouth. I've been doing this long enough to know when I've taken a pint from a donor. Once I reach that point, I remove my fangs despite the fact that I'm still hungry. Licking the wound closed, I lower Jonathan back down to the desk so I can lean over him and really pound his ass. He transfers his grip to my triceps and just takes what I give him.

He cups one hand behind my neck and pulls me down so he can try and remove my tonsils with his tongue. When he needs to breathe, he pushes me back a bit. "I should have let you be my eighteenth birthday present."

I just shake my head and double my efforts to get us both off. It works so well that we come within seconds of each other. I collapse just enough to rest my forehead against his. "You'd already decided on the Air Force so I would have said no since I wasn't out."

"Still not out, Old Man," he says, his voice heavy with laughter.

With a shrug I pull out and step back. "Doesn't matter." Tucking myself back into my pants, I turn and approach where I left the camera. Crouching down, I pick it up and make sure I didn't damage it when I dropped it in my haste to get my dick in Jonathan's ass.

"So, joint shower?" he asks. 

I look at him over my shoulder and see that he's put on his pants and has the rest of the costume balled up under his arm. I can't quite stop the growl that escapes at the extra expense I now have to get it cleaned and pressed. "Damnit, Jon. I told you it's from a costume shop."

He just rolls his eyes and heads back into the house. With a sigh, I stand up, shoulder the camera bag, and follow him, deciding on my way into the house to take a solo shower.

"It's why I came to you that night." He drops the non sequitur into the silence that has descended some thirty minutes later as we eat some pasta at the kitchen table.

"Excuse me?" I frown across the table at him.

He puts down his fork, wipes his hands on his pants and sits back in his chair. Licking his lips, he lets his gaze dart around the room. "I'd wanted you to be my first for as long as I could remember so when I walked away I looked you up."

"That the only reason?" I twirl some pasta around my fork and take a bite.

He picks up his fork and begins picking at his pasta. "When I first touched Daniel, I knew something was wrong and when Thor fixed whatever Loki had done that caused the clones to die, the look on everyone's faces… It wasn't so bad coming from _him_ and Sam and Teal'c and Hammond. But from Daniel – from Daniel it cut deep. He was looking at me like I was a bug under a microscope, a puzzle he needed to solve; I was less than human to them all and the fact that I was no longer Daniel's Mate –" He pauses and swallows loudly. "It was several days before I realized I couldn't stay where he put me. It felt… creepy… the way the girls were looking at me. There was no way I could go to New Orleans or to any of the members of Sylum because they'd've just sent me right back to the SGC.

"I was hoping you'd let me stay." He meets my gaze for a second before letting it bounce around the room again. "I was also hoping to feel the zing when we touched." The last is said in a very soft voice.

Leaning forward, I place my hand on his wrist. "Jon." I squeeze his wrist. "I too, had hoped to feel that zing when we touched the first time that night. But it didn't happen. Doesn't mean I feel any less for you." He looks up and opens his mouth to speak. "No, you're not a replacement for Ja – him. I see you for you, Jon. I care for you as a human being who deserves to be loved."

He blinks at me for several seconds before his face is split by a huge grin, and he throws back his head and laughs so hard tears stream down his cheeks. "God, you really think that's what this is about? Jesus, Dean. Sure it hurt when Daniel rejected me and then when you didn't turn out to be my Mate but I have a lot of self-confidence. I know who I am and that's someone _he_ could – no, _would_ – never even consider being and that feels great! Better than great, even. It feels bloody brilliant! I'd give anything to rub it all in his face but I made myself a vow that I'd never set foot anywhere near him. But I thank you for the confidence boost, if I'd've needed it, it would have helped."

I snatch my hand back and angrily attack my pasta. "I was just trying to help. No need to laugh in my face." I didn't deal well with people laughing at me when I was a sixteen-year-old kid, and after all this time I _still_ don't.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't –"

"Stuff it." I drop my fork and push my chair back in preparation of leaving the table. "I think it's time for me to go."

His eyes go wide in panic and he quickly takes a gulp of his beer. "No, Dean. Seriously, I didn't mean –"

"And I said to forget it. I really need to go. Carter's probably pacing a hole in the floor waiting for me to get back."

"It's late. Why don't you just wait until tomorrow?"

"Late?" I look out the window where I can see the sun shining high in the sky. "It's barely noon."

"Exactly. Surely he isn't expecting you now?"

"Doesn't matter. I got what I came for." Jonathan disappears under the table before I can push myself to my feet. "What are you -?" My words trail off when he pulls my fly open enough to wiggle his hand inside. "Jon." I try to stop him but he just slaps my hands away. "Jon –" My voice most definitely _did not_ just squeak when his hand wraps around my dick so he can tug it out of my pants. I try one more time to get him to stop by pushing on his head. He just once again slaps my hands away.

He wraps his lips around the head and _sucks_ and then does something impossible with his tongue that has my eyes crossing. Jonathan gives the best fucking blowjobs I have ever been on the receiving end of. I don't know if Jonathan acquired that knowledge on his own or if it's from when he was Jack, and frankly I don't care.

I thread my fingers into his hair, he didn't put it back up after the photo shoot, and just hang on as he takes me on a fabulous ride.

Just as I've decided that he's trying to Hoover my brains out through my dick, he pulls off with an obscene pop.

He climbs into my lap, wiping his chin with the back of one hand. "Still wanna leave?"

A low growl builds in the back of my throat. Little bastard knows exactly which buttons to push, and how to push them, to get me to do as he wants. "If you don't want pasta all over your kitchen floor, and to be fucked on this table for the second time in as many days, I suggest you get your skinny little ass upstairs."

He bites his lower lip and looks up at the ceiling in the classic Jack O'Neill 'I'm thinking!' pose. "I don't think I can wait that long." And so with a shimmy and a shake of his hips, he removes his sweat pants and before I know it, he's impaling himself on my cock.

"Damnit, Jonathan!" I grab his hips to help him keep his balance.

He grins down at me, then leans down and licks my nose, something that usually throws me out of the moment but not this time; this time all it does is put a lid on my simmering anger. I chuckle and wrap my hands around his shoulders from behind to pull him down so I can suck on his tongue. He gives a happy hum and settles into a rhythm that has my eyes rolling back in my head.

Flexing my fingers against his skin, I pull him down so that I can thrust up. He pulls back so he can gulp in some air. Wrapping one arm around his waist, I stand up and begin to push the plates out of the way.

"I swear you had better not shove those plates onto the floor!" he says, panting heavily between each word.

"If it's not the table, it'll have to be the floor. I can't thrust the way I want from this position."

"Then sit down and let me do all the work."

With a big push of my free hand against the table, I drop back down in the chair which causes him to become impaled further on my length and has him moaning deep in his throat. 

I've already fed from him today, so I can't sink my fangs into his neck like I want. I settle for nibbling on his jaw and leaving marks down his neck. My ministrations have him wiggling in my lap in a way that is very pleasant. Wrapping one hand around his dick, I begin stroking. The sound he makes has no vowels and can't really be described as a word.

"You didn't really think I was just going to sit here and let you fuck yourself on my cock, did you?"

He shakes his head and starts to raise and lower himself, bracing his hands on my shoulders. Stilling my hand, I tighten my grip just the tiniest bit so that he has some resistance.

I've had three exhausting orgasms in the past twenty-four hours, and I'm in no hurry to have a fourth. I'm quite content to take a leisurely path to the next climax. But Jonathan doesn't agree. He does everything that usually has stars exploding behind my eyes in no time flat, but we've never had sex as frequently as we've had it this visit. Despite what everyone thinks, I can have a relationship that doesn't revolve around sex; I _can_ spend time with someone I've been intimate with and not get naked. It doesn't happen very often, and Jonathan is the one it happens with the most, but it does happen. And I'm sure it will happen often with Carter. Not in the beginning, though. Once I get Carter in my bed, I won't be letting him out of it very often for quite some time.

Eventually, we tumble over the edge and he sags against my chest, his breath hot against the skin of my neck. "Whoever said that a slow build up isn't as good as running straight at The Big O has obviously never been fucked by you." We share a laugh, then both groan when my softened dick slips out of him. "God, I hate that part."

With a sigh, he lets himself go weightless almost as if settling in for the night. I poke him in the ribs. He jerks to the side with a yelp. "I gotta go now so you hafta get up." I pat him on the ass.

He leans back so he can pout at me. "We've discussed this already, Dean. Surely Carter's not expecting you back this soon?" 

As much as I'd love to stay right where I am, I know that if I do, I won't ever find the courage to tell Carter. "It really is time for me to go, Jon. So be a good boy, and let me up."

He frowns, but does as I ask, grumbling under his breath. He pulls his sweat pants back on and begins to clear the table. Judging by the way he's dropping the plates in the sink, I can tell I've pissed him off.

"Look, much as I'd love to stay here and fuck your brains out all day, I do have a job to do. It's not like I live all that far away. I'm just –" I trail off, hoping this isn't another one of his pranks.

He looks at me over his shoulder. "I know it's hard to believe but I'm tired of being alone; of being lonely."

"Maybe if you got out there…" He rolls his eyes and I snicker. "Seriously, Jon. You're never going to find your Mate sitting here throwing clay."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a whoosh. "I'm trying to stay under the radar. You know what that's like, don'tcha, Dean?"

"Yeah, I do," I say, getting up and doing up my fly. "And now I have to go fly under a totally different radar and try to make some pervert so hot for you he'll demand to meet you in person."

I head upstairs with him trailing along behind me. In the bedroom, I tug on my t-shirt, then turn in a circle while looking for my socks. Jonathan's leaning one shoulder against the doorframe and watching me with hooded eyes. Giving up on locating my socks, I nick a pair of Jonathan's and pull them on while walking toward him. "I'll be back, ya know."

"Yeah, to get me to go and meet the sick bastard." He steps back to let me pass. "Almost forgot to ask something. Are you billing me as a virgin?"

"Yeah. Virgins tend to fetch more coin and creeps like the target tend to prefer to be the first. I plan on telling my man that the pictures were taken over several months."

He nods. "Fair enough."

Silence descends as he follows me back down the stairs and out through the kitchen, after stopping in the living room to grab my boots. I balance on one foot, and then the other, at the back door in order to put my boots on. "I'll call once I know more."

"Okay." His tone is heavy with dejection and I could just kick myself for forgetting how he is after we've spent any amount of time together.

I'm not sure why but whenever it's time for us to part, Jonathan gets quiet and withdraws into himself, almost like he's trying to protect himself from getting hurt, emotionally. One look at his face warns me to not say anything other than 'good-bye'. Clamping one hand on his shoulder, I squeeze and give it a tiny shake. "Try and get some sleep, okay? You just might need it." I don't give him a chance to respond and exit the house and climb up into my truck. 

Throwing him a two fingered salute, I back out of the driveway and head home.


	3. Chapter 3

On the drive back to my place, I let my mind wander and the main thought that keeps circling my brain is how much the world has changed while staying exactly the same. I mean, there will always be people willing to take advantage of others, just like there will always be people who fall for even the most obvious of scams.

When I pass one of my favorite vampire bars, I actually contemplate stopping for a drink. I decide against it for two reasons: 1) it's getting late and 2) I can feel exhaustion pulling at my limbs. With that decided, I continue on toward home and when I get there, I find to my relief that no one's around. Climbing from the truck, I swear I actually feel every single one of my one thousand, one hundred thirty-two years. 

Slamming the door shut, I open the back door and pull out the camera bag and the costume I rented for Jonathan's pictures. Shutting it wearily, I begin the long trek across the parking garage to the elevator. The trip up to my floor seems to take an eternity and I slump against the wall of the car and close my eyes. 

Stepping out into my apartment, I dump the camera bag next to the bar and drape the garment bag over my steam dryer so I don't forget to toss the costume in it to try and get the worst of the wrinkles out before having to return it. "Those wrinkles had better come out or I swear, Jonathan won't be able to sit for a very long time," I mutter, making my way slowly to my room, stripping and letting my clothes fall where they may.

Once behind the frosted glass brick wall, and clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, I climb up onto the bed feeling like an old man. "What the hell's wrong with me?" I sprawl face first on the mattress and clutch my pillow tight to my chest.

With a deep, world weary sigh, I close my eyes, let myself go boneless and order my mind to go blank so I can maybe, _just maybe_ , get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

My subconscious, however, has other ideas and the darkness behind my lids is replaced by the colorful landscape of Constantinople in the year of our Lord 1124.

 

I had been with Ardeth when I received a missive from Arthur. It read 'I would consider it a favor if you were to fight this Crusade in my stead.' And while it was politely worded, and phrased as a request, it was still an order. And so I find myself in this foreign country, fighting a battle I don't consider mine.

Constantinople is a beautiful city. I'm surprised that it looks nothing like I thought it would. Where I was expecting it to look more like the little village Ardeth has created in the desert, it doesn't. It's an eclectic yet visually pleasing mix of the Middle Eastern and European cities I have visited in the past two hundred years. 

During my travels I've discovered to my utter enjoyment that all women fall into two categories: those who are willing to accept advances from just about any man and those who will only accept advances from their husband. In Europe, those in the former group are easy to spot; they wear their dresses with a lower neckline, higher hem and looser sleeves while those in the latter group cover up everything. In the Middle East they're not as easy to spot, unless you know what to look for. Women in the Middle East are covered from head to toe, with only their eyes showing. Since becoming a vampire I've discovered an obsession with people's eyes, which helps me find the women who like to have their skirts tossed on a regular basis and don't care who does the tossing. 

While walking down the street in the local market, I make eye contact with several women. Those who like what they see don't look away when I lock gazes with them and I take note of what color their outer robe is so I can find them again, should I desire to accept the invitation. 

My attention is caught by a man shuffling along the wall on the other side of the street from me. Despite how dirty he is and the tattered clothes he's dressed in, it's obvious he's a noble. It's also obvious that the man is in distress and if someone doesn't do something, he will fall victim to thieves. A quick glance around shows the man has no friends rushing to his aide, so I cross the street to offer my assistance. Before I can even speak, however, he stumbles and falls into my arms.

"Unhand me! How dare you touch me? Do you have any idea who I am?" Despite looking like a strong breeze would knock him over, he manages to shove me hard enough that I take a couple of steps back.

"You appear to be someone who needs assistance. Please forgive me, sir, for overstepping some invisible boundary." I step aside to let him pass.

"No one gets away with picking the pocket of Antonio Crisafi, Knight Templar," he states, his nose firmly in the air which makes him sway alarmingly.

"I beg your pardon, sir." Deciding he's not worth the hassle, I go to step around him when suddenly he loses his tenuous grasp on wakefulness and collapses into my arms. "Bloody hell!" I know there's no way he'll ever thank me for making sure he doesn't get killed but for some reason I can't walk away. Something forces me to sweep him up into my arms and turn to carry him back to my rooms.

Before I can even take one step, though, a man approaches. My eyes widen when I don't hear a heartbeat. In the months I've been here I have yet to encounter another vampire before now.

"Is there a problem, friend?" he asks, planting both feet and fingering his sword hilt.

"I'm not your friend," I snarl, shifting the unconscious body of Antonio Crisafi so that I have a better grip.

The newcomer chuckles. "Fair enough and yet we're not enemies, either."

"Says you. I've never laid eyes on you before."

He holds out one hand, as if I have a free hand to shake his with. "Nicholas Dupre. Is he a friend of yours?" He waves that hand at the body in my arms.

"No."

"Your dinner, then?"

"No."

"My, aren't you the talkative one? Who is he then?"

"He said his name is Antonio Crisafi, Knight Templar. I've never met him before today. I saw him stumbling along and was afraid someone might take advantage of him in his weakened state."

Nicholas' face lights up at the name. "Can it be?" he whispers, lifting Antonio's head so he can lift one eyelid. "Meus Deus!" His voice is heavy with shock.

"You know him?"

Nicholas looks up at me. "Yes, he has a soul I once knew."

"Excellent." I all but throw Antonio at him and turn to continue on my way to my original destination. "You can take care of him, then."

"You never told me your name," Nicholas calls.

I look at him over my shoulder. _What harm could there be in giving him my name?_ "Dean McGillis." I've been holed up in Ardeth's village long enough that I feel comfortable not picking an alias. 

"You're Scottish?" He seems surprised.

"That a problem?"

"Not at all. Just didn't realize that there were any Scots involved in this fight."

"My master is English." Nicholas finds this extremely humorous for some reason, and I tilt my head at him. "What's so funny?"

"Last I heard, the Scots hate the English almost as much as the Irish do."

I shrug a shoulder. "He's the only one I trust."

"Ah. He's your Sire. I understand."

Well, not really, but I’m not about to give my life story to a complete stranger so the answer will suffice. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" I again turn my back and begin walking away.

"I'd like the opportunity to talk later." He just will _not_ give up.

I shake my head and don’t even bother turning around. "You and I have nothing to talk about."

"You're not alone, Master McGillis." I pause at that. I know I'm not alone but I prefer to be. If I can't have Adair by my side, then I don't want anyone.

 

Wakefulness comes slowly until I'm blinking at the ceiling, mulling over my dream. With a deep sigh, I decide I might as well get a start on the day. I still have to see about getting the wrinkles out of Jonathan's costume as well as picking out which pictures to use as bait. 

Rolling to the edge of the bed, I sit up with my arms braced on my knees, my hands hanging loose between them and my head bowed while I continue thinking about what that dream could possibly mean. 

Suddenly, like a bolt outta the blue, I have an epiphany and just like that, I know why I feel like I'm over a thousand years old instead of the age I appear to be: I've gone nearly eleven hundred years without my Mate. How stupid can I be that I didn't realize that the fact that I've gone so long unbonded is my problem? I feel old and world-weary. I feel like I'm having a harder and harder time giving a damn about much of anything anymore. The only reason I'm not getting sloppy on the job was because Ardeth beat some pretty strict personal standards into me all those centuries ago. But it's like I can almost feel myself getting weaker instead of stronger. It's like I've hit my peak, like I can only go so high and without my Mate to help me balance then I’m just going to burn out.

Put it like that, the choice instantly becomes clear. I make my decision to tell Carter as soon as this case is over and get to my feet, suddenly feeling energized. After a quick shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and pad out to the main area to toss the rented school uniform in the dryer and fix myself a bag of cloned blood.

"God! Even warm, this stuff is awful," I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of one hand. A smirk crosses my face when I realize that I won't have to exist on this nasty ass stuff quite as often, not for too much longer, anyway. Once I Turn Carter and we Bond, I can feed from him as often as I like. 

The thought of finally sinking my fangs into Carter's neck has my mouth watering and it's all I can do to not take myself over to his house right the fuck now and inform him of my true nature and then make him mine. But that would be a Turning Without Consent, as well as a Force Bond, and both would land me in major hot water with not only Nico but The Council, and I don't need that kind of heat coming down on me at this time. Not when Carter is so close.

Walking to my closet, I start planning how I'm going to get some face time with the target. And of course one of the most important pieces to that puzzle is how I sell my character. Pulling the closet doors open, I stare at all the clothes I've collected from my jobs. Since I'm going in as an assistant groundskeeper, I settle on the mechanic's uniform from a couple of cases back.

The buzzer on the dryer sounds just as I finish dressing. Pulling the blazer, shirt and slacks out, I'm pleased to see that I won't have to go tan Jonathan's hide. Well, at least not for this. Tucking the costume back in its bag, I sling it over one shoulder and the camera bag strap over the other, then head down the stairs and out to my truck. Expecting to see Carter's truck parked nearby, I'm quite surprised, though still pleased, to see that only Jaimie is here. Depositing the garment bag in the backseat, I turn and head for the elevator.

Entering the loft, I revel in the fact that I don't have to hide anything since it's just Jaimie and me. The walk across the sunlit space, while not having to play the role I put on for those not in the know, is enough to show me just how tired I am of pretending. I'm a powerful man in my own right with the third largest bank account in Sylum.

Being alive for several centuries gives one a unique perspective on things, and Nick always keeps his eye on investment opportunities. He strongly suggests that his Clan members invest the same way as him and most do, just not with as much money. I, on the other hand, go my own way. Most of my choices have paid off as well, and I pride myself on the fact that I don't rub it in Nick's face that I did just as well with my own picks.

I can see Jaimie out of the corner of my eye in the kitchen making herself something to eat. She turns at the clanging of the door, and I bite back a smirk at the way her eyes widen when she sees my expression. I probably look like a grumpy bastard with a gun… and hey, I _am_ a grumpy bastard with a gun. Well, maybe not quite: I did know my parents, after all. But that thought only starts to make me even grumpier when Jaimie interrupts my thoughts. "Did something happen, Dean?" Her voice cracks on the last word and she clears her throat nervously.

"Not a damn thing, other than me realizing that I'm fucking tired of pretending to be someone I'm not." I stalk over to my desk and throw myself into my chair before angrily stabbing the 'on' button for my computer.

"So you're going to tell Carter soon?" I can tell that my current mood is scaring her but I can't find it in me to care.

"Yeah." She really shouldn't expect more than one or two word answers. I'm seriously not in the mood for any kind of conversation beyond maybe telling Carter my secret and charming him into my bed.

I pull the camera out of its bag and plug it into the USB port of my computer's tower. It hums while thinking about what it needs to do. Just as my patience reaches its end, the computer pings that it has found the pictures in the camera's memory.

I open the first picture and begin looking it over to see if anything needs to be done to make it better. Jaimie cautiously approaches and stands just behind me and slightly to the right, in a spot that won't get her toes run over by the wheels of my chair if I should stand up quicker than she can react, and whistles when she gets her first look at Jonathan.

"Damn, Dean. How old did you say he is?"

"Didn't."

"I'm not gonna get anything but grunts from you today, am I?" She takes a step closer and is now in my peripheral vision.

"Yep." She sighs in frustration and I have to bite back a smile.

Ty comes in and puts his stuff down on his desk before joining Jaimie in staring over my shoulder at the pictures. "Tell me you didn't enjoy watching him take his clothes off."

Suddenly I decide that this isn’t a conversation I want to have with my back turned. I need to see his eyes, read his face so I know where he really stands. "Is it a problem if I did?" I spin my chair around so I can look at Ty.

He frowns at me, and I can almost see him thinking about his answer. Being a homosexual cop is still pretty much taboo but when compared with my other secret, it's not that big a deal. But Ty is the type of guy who might object just because it's expected. Finally he replies with, "Since you've never hit on me and it's never interfered with the job, I'd have to say no, it's not a problem."

With a smile and a nod, I turn back to the computer. "Good to know. And for the record, Ty, I've never hit on you because you're not my type."

The sound Ty makes is more of a girly squawk than he'd probably like, so I ignore it. "What'd ya mean I'm not your type?"

"You really want me to answer that?" The bantering with Ty has gone a long way to lightening my mood.

"Yeah, no. I think I'll let that one pass." He walks back to his desk and sits down, shuffling papers in an effort to end that topic of conversation. 

Jaimie crouches down next to me. "Is he-?" she asks, nodding toward the monitor where the picture of a completely naked Jonathan stretched out on the desk is visible.

Chuckling softly, I shake my head. "No."

"Then why-?" 

I don't let her finish that question. "I'm afraid I can't tell you, James. Sorry." Before she can respond, I smell Carter coming up the elevator. "Carter's coming. I suggest you get back to work," I say just as the door clangs shut.

"Talk to me, people," Carter orders, striding across the floor to his desk.

I have to force myself to keep looking at the computer screen because I'm sure if I was to look up at him I'd have the Devil's own time not jumping up and dragging him off somewhere where I can fuck his brains out.

"I found out that most of the clubs where the kids end up are invitation only," Ty says, standing up with a file in his hand which he hands off to Carter, who flips it open to read the contents. "I've got an invite for night after tomorrow but I have a feeling I won't be allowed anywhere near them at first."

"Of course not," Carter confirms. "They want to know they can trust you before they let you near the merchandise." He turns his head and pins me with his crystal blue gaze. "And you?"

"I got some pictures and an appointment later today with my contact."

Carter nods, slipping his glasses on while stepping over to my desk so he can look at the pictures over my shoulder. I grit my teeth at having him so close and yet so far away. He smells so damn good, all I want to do is turn around and – I savagely cut off that line of thought.

"You sure this kid will do the trick?"

"Yeah. He's the complete opposite of all the other boys that have been taken."

"And that means the target will want to see this one in person?"

"My CIs all say that he only examines the boys in person but has yet to keep one. They think that maybe a pretty blond boy will peak his interest enough."

Carter makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and goes over to his desk. After several minutes Carter's voice suddenly breaks the silence. "You still here, Bendis?"

"Of course not, Boss," I say, jumping up and stepping around my desk.

"Don't disappoint me, Dean," Carter whispers when I pass his desk.

Turning to face him, I narrow my eyes. "Or what?"

Dammit, it was going so well, too. All I had to do was just keep my fucking mouth shut and let the remark pass, but _no_. He pulls his glasses off and tosses them down on his desk, meeting my gaze like the alpha-type he is. "Or you'll regret it."

And naturally, I’ve never backed down from a challenge even if it’s for my own good. "Is that so?" My voice hardens as anger flares white hot in the back of my brain. A sharply indrawn breath from Jaimie warns me that I'm very close to stepping over the line, as if Carter's angrily narrowed eyes weren't enough.

"Watch yourself, there, Bendis," Carter growls, hunching forward over his desk.

I am so fucking tired of pretending to be Human around those closest to me. I want nothing more than to vamp out and take what's mine. Clenching my jaw tightly while grinding my teeth, I spin on my heel and stomp from the loft, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to try and work off some of the anger that's slowly building in the pit of my stomach. I do _not_ want to be angry with Carter. I have to keep reminding myself of that. It’s just… even once I _do_ tell him, I know he’s going to protest and ask way too many damn questions, and that’ll take forever. Well, logically he should ask questions since any reasonably intelligent person would ask questions, but… God, I just want this to be _over_.

Arriving at the bar where I'm to meet my contact a full hour early has the added benefit of allowing me to calm the fuck down before being introduced to the man who will decide whether or not I get to have a face to face with the target. I'm sitting at the bar nursing a scotch when Vinnie 'The Rat' Ratazonie enters with a man known only as 'The Crusher'. One look at the guy and anyone would know instantly that it's a fitting nickname for the mountain of a man who appears to be able to crush a person with very little effort.

"Let's take this somewhere less public," Vinnie hisses in my ear as he passes my stool.

With a shrug, I slip off the stool and follow them to the back where there's a booth tucked into a corner. I hate sitting with my back to the room, but there's no way I'm going to allow myself to get trapped in the booth if anything should go down during this meeting, so I grab a chair from a nearby table and swing it around in order to straddle it, facing Vinnie and his 'friend'.

"So, Vinnie says you have something for sale." Crusher sure does like to get right to the point.

"Yeah. Found this-" I toss Jonathan's pictures down on the table. "-being ignored by his fellow classmates at the private school where I work."

Vinnie and Crusher both whistle at just the pictures of Jonathan with his clothes still on. Once they get to the ones where he's begun to undress, let's just say that their eyes damn near pop straight outta their heads.

"What's his story?" Crusher asks, fingering the photo of a naked Jonathan stretched out on top of the desk.

I give a one-shouldered shrug. "His father's a workaholic, and his mother's a socialite that sees him as just another fashion accessory that she pulls out whenever she wants to impress someone. He's had trouble making friends due to having to switch schools in the middle of the year. His parents pulled him from his last one because he got into too many fights. I think he was trying to get his parents' attention. Of course with them being so self-centered, they just shoveled him off to a new school instead."

"Have you touched him?"

Shaking my head, I take a sip of my scotch. "Nope."

"Why not? The kid's got one hell of a tasty looking ass on him."

"Don't I know it," I mutter. "I prefer to just have pics to beat off to. Possession of child porn carries a much lower penalty than actual molestation. Plus the guys in GP tend to leave you alone if all you've done is jerk off to some pictures. Not to mention my old lady would kick my ass from one end of the state to the other, and she's a great lay so I'd prefer to keep in her good graces if you know what I mean."

"If all you want is some pics and the kid's willing to let you take them, why're you so hot to sell him to someone who's going to be doing a hell of a lot more than looking?"

I glance around to make sure no one's close enough to hear, then lean forward with my arms braced on the table. "The kid's become a nuisance. He follows me everywhere and has started showing up in my office before, during and after school. I told him he has to stop but he won't. If something doesn't change soon, he's gonna end up losing me my job and my old lady gives it up more willingly if I'm not sitting on her fucking couch all fucking day. And like I said, she's one fucking hell of a lay."

"Boss'll wanna see a full frontal on the kid, here." Crusher taps the picture he's been fondling the whole time.

"Not a problem. Like I said, kid worships the ground I walk on."

"Excellent. When do you think you'll have it?"

"I can have the picture, and the kid, ready for your boss Friday. His parents are going outta town for a month so no one will miss him until Monday when he doesn't show for school, and I can find a way to deflect that for a week or longer."

"Perfect." Crusher starts to slide out from behind the table. "I'll call with the time and location." And with that, and a stinging slap to my shoulder, Vinnie and The Crusher leave the bar.

I drain my glass, then slam it down on the table before getting up and making my way to my car. 

The drive to Jonathan's house does nothing to distill the anger roiling in the pit of my stomach. An anger that I blame for the way I shove him back against a wall the second I enter the kitchen. I also blame it for attacking his mouth a bit energetically before coming to my senses and remembering I have to take some more pictures.

I pull back and run my thumb over his lips in apology. "Is there something you can do to diminish the swelling? Or should I try and fix it in Photoshop?"

"You need more pictures?" Apparently my kisses have the ability to addle his brains. Well, either that or I just caught him totally off guard.

I smile gently at the way he stands there blinking at me. "Yeah. He wants some full frontal."

He frowns as if that doesn't make any sense. He flicks his tongue over his lips and I have to fight the urge to follow it back into his mouth. "You can't do that." His voice is all breathy and it goes straight to my dick.

At least I still have my wits about me. "Don't worry about your tat. I can remove it with Photoshop."

"Oh, okay, then." He pushes on my shoulders until I step back and he can lead the way into the garage. Suddenly he spins on his heel. "Wait! Your camera."

"Fuck!" I slap my hand against my forehead. "You got a digital camera, don'tcha?"

"Sure. Give me a second to get it." He disappears into the house and I take the time to rearrange the area to better suit what we're about to do.

When Jonathan returns, he's sucking on a cherry popsicle, holding his camera high in the other hand. I roll my eyes and chuckle. "You are such a fucking tease."

"But you love me anyway, right?" He dips his head so he can look at me through his lashes.

"Brat," I mutter, taking the camera from him and beginning to familiarize myself with it.

He grins widely at me. "Want me to put on the costume again?"

"Nah. We'll just take the naked pictures. He's seen you do your strip tease. Don't need it again." He deep throats the popsicle and when he pulls the stick out, I see it's missing the frozen treat. I just glare at him. "If you don't stop, you won't be able to sit for _weeks_ ," I growl.

His grin turns into a smirk, and he saunters over to the desk where he drops his sweatpants. I remember why I'm here just in time to snap a couple of pictures of his naked ass. He turns to face me and pulls himself up onto the desk with me taking pictures the whole time.

This photo shoot goes pretty much like the last one, with the only difference being that he's completely naked the whole time. 

He starts out with simple, yet sexy, poses just sitting on the desk and ends sprawled on his side, lazily stroking his erect dick.

"I think that's enough, don't you?" he purrs, turning until his ass is at the edge of the desk, giving me an excellent view of his hole. "Fuck me, Dean. I know you wanna," he taunts, his voice a sultry rumble, while tracing one finger around his entrance. 

I approach the desk and the sexy body draped over the top of it, but unlike the last time, I don't just slam home in his ass. This time I have to go slow, have to make sure he's ready for me. I slip two fingers inside and discover that he's nice and lubed.

"Damn, Jon. What'd'ya do? Prep yourself every morning?"

He wraps his legs around my hips and urges me to enter him quicker. "Does it bother you that you're not the only one?"

Leaning down with my hands braced on either side of his head, I nibble on his neck. "Not at all. Just so long as he treats you right."

"Oh, yeah. _She_ treats me just right." His voice has gone all breathy again.

The image of Jonathan being pegged by a woman has my hips stuttering which causes his eyes to roll back in his head. And of course he notices that his words have gone straight to my dick.

"You should try it sometime, Dean," he says between grunts that punctuate my thrusts. "Looking up and seeing a pair of tits bouncing in your face and knowing it's because she's thrusting _inside_ of you instead of riding your cock…" He trails off as he climaxes, his dick shooting thin pearly streams of come all over his chest.

The sight of Jonathan tumbling over the edge into ecstasy usually has me following, but not tonight. I grab onto the reins of my control with both hands and ride out his climax. I manage to prolong his orgasm, causing his back to arch and his hands to clutch at my shoulders. 

After a minute or two, his breathing begins to slow and the flush of sexual pleasure begins to fade from his skin. I use this as my cue that now's the time for me to let go. 

Before I can, however, he says the one thing guaranteed to put a damper on my libido. "While having a woman fuck you is an experience not to be missed, it most definitely comes in a distance second to having a flesh and blood cock pumping away inside you. I mean, after we started hooking up, it was so nice to give my toys a break. And let me tell you how frustrating it was to look this young and try to replace what _he’s_ got hidden in a trunk under the bed for whenever he gets a dry streak."

While I have no allusions that I'm the only man Jonathan fucks, it's the first time he's hinted that Jack ever had sex with men, something that hurts deep inside because I wasn't able to be one of them due to my not being out as a Vampire. DADT may say that Jack can't have a sexual relationship with another man but it does allow a Vampire to fuck him while feeding. For the first time ever, I regret not registering as a Vampire. Although, wanting to take Jack's virginity is not the proper reason to register.

I’d always been there for Jack, but he’d never taken me up on it, couldn't really. I can’t even articulate the kind of feelings that provokes. But even if I could, the mood is pretty much ruined so I pull out, grab the camera and, without a backward glance, leave the garage. I know it looks bad but I’m doing the one thing I know will stop the conversation from getting any more uncomfortable: walking away and ignoring his attempts to call me back.

He gives me my space, thankfully, and finds me later in the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of whiskey. One thing that sucks about being a vampire is that I can’t really get drunk, but I can sure as hell try. Jonathan doesn’t say anything, just sits beside me until I feel like being sociable again.

The sun has set and the moon is high in the sky by the time I return to the warehouse I call home. Seeing the parking area full of my team's cars just amps up my irritation level and I do my best to keep it from showing on my face. It doesn’t take long for me to realize I’m not successful, but at that point I just don't fucking care anymore.

The loft is full of the sounds of Ty and Jaimie debating something inane and pointless, but important to their mortal hearts nonetheless. As soon as they see me, however, they stop talking; Jaimie in mid-sentence, Ty in mid-word. The expressions on their faces would be hilarious if not for the fact that the last several hours, and the drive from Jonathan's in rush hour traffic, have done nothing but exasperate my anger exponentially.

Carter's attention has been focused on the papers on his desk but when Jaimie and Ty stop talking he shows that he did have one ear on their conversation. His head snaps up and he opens his mouth, presumably to ask why they've stop talking, only to shut it with a click of his teeth that I'm sure even Humans can hear. His brows lower over his nose and I can see storm clouds building behind his eyes. I'm in a shitload of trouble and I really couldn't care less.

Carter whips off his glasses, tosses them onto the desk and stands so swiftly his chair rolls backward several feet, spinning wildly from the force of the backs of his knees hitting the edge. "Just where the fuck have you been?"

"I told you I had a meeting with my CI," I snarl, not even pausing on my way to my desk. Until Carter steps into my path, that is.

"That meeting was hours ago." He sniffs loudly. "You smell like sex." Well, of course I do. Jonathan and I had sex in the backseat of my truck just before I left. "I'm not paying you to go fuck some bimbo."

"Not a bimbo," I reply, trying to step around Carter.

Carter moves to stay right in front of me, obviously pissed. "Fuck it, Dean! What have you been up to?"

"I assure you he's well above legal," I reply flatly.

Carter sets his jaw. "And yet he looks like jailbait. Why's that?"

I settle back on my heels, giving up on getting around Carter at the moment. "Good genes," I answer with a shrug. And it's true. When Sally was forty she could have easily passed for under thirty and I'm sure that was part of why David fell for her; he always did like them young, although not young enough to get himself into legal trouble.

Carter draws himself up to his full height and if I was thinking right at this moment, I'd just agree with whatever it is he's about to say and get on with doing my job. But I think we've established that I'm not thinking right at this moment. "You were supposed to have your meeting and then return here, to fill me in on what happened!" His voice starts out soft and by the time he's done, he's yelling and leaning forward so that our noses are almost touching.

"They asked for a full frontal," I say through gritted teeth, my hands tight fists at my sides.

"How could you possibly have gotten one when your camera is right. Over. There!?" He flings his right arm out and points at my camera sitting on my desk, still plugged into my computer.

"Believe it or not, Carter, I'm not the only person in the world who owns a digital camera." I pull a flash drive from my pocket. "I got the photos right here and if they weren't of a nature that would land my ass behind bars, I'd find somewhere else to print them so I could have avoided all this bullshit!" I test my boundaries by bumping Carter's chest with my own. I bite back a smirk when I manage to force him back a step.

"Dean!" Jaimie's gasp is supposed to be a warning but I'm not in the mood to heed it right now.

I can almost feel something inside me snap. Seeing Riddick, my crazier counterpart in the world, settled and happy with his Bonded Mate, not to mention seeing John with his Mate, has me realizing just how sorry my life has become and how much I crave the same with Carter. I want that. I want to be with somebody, mine forever. I don’t want to be on my own anymore; I want to be one half of an us. And the fact that my other half is this stubborn, sexy, pig-headed, rule-abiding, meticulous, do-gooder asshole who won’t let me forget that I work for him in this lifetime is the final straw.

"Watch yourself, there, Bendis. You are _this_ close-" He holds up one hand with his thumb and forefinger almost touching, "-to stepping over the line."

"I don't give a _fuck_ about your fucking line!" I shout, stepping closer until the toes of our boots are touching.

"Dean!" Jaimie calls out, sounding so much like my mother that I have to stop and wonder if I've been wrong about whose soul I see in her eyes.

When I turn at look at her, I see she has her mouth slightly open, something that can be blamed on her panting with her own adrenaline rush, and her tongue is toying with one of her canines. I raise my eyes to hers and see that they're open impossibly wide and the look in them is similar to what I saw the first time she ever saw me vamp out. It takes me a second to figure out what she's trying to tell me but once I do, I become instantly aware that my fangs are extended.

With a sharp shake of my head, I return my teeth to their normal appearance and turn back to Carter. "If you don't mind, I think I'll print out these pictures and then go home to get some much needed sleep."

Staring into Carter's eyes, I can tell he saw me vamp out but doesn't quite believe what he saw and so is going to dismiss it. At least he doesn’t look afraid of it; more like he’s convinced that his mind is playing tricks on him. I can also see him fighting with himself about whether or not he should let this go.

"Carter," Jaimie says softly, and it's like she's the mother of the team or something because her soft tone has the ability to defuse Carter's anger.

He deflates like a balloon, his shoulders slumping the slightest bit, and steps aside. "Do your job, Dean. We'll discuss this later."

With a nod of thanks at Jaimie, I continue to my desk and make quick work of removing Jonathan's tattoo and printing out the pictures I feel are the best. My argument with Carter has shattered the peaceful atmosphere of the room and we all work the rest of the night in complete silence. Slowly, quietly, Ty and Jaimie slip away when they've finished their work for the day and eventually I stand up to follow their lead. Unfortunately, I’m just not that lucky.

"Just a moment, Dean," Carter says in the softest voice he's ever used when talking to me.

With a sigh, I settle my weight on one hip, keeping my back turned. "Not now, Carter, please. I'm exhausted and hungry."

"Yeah, well, fucking a twink all afternoon will do that to a person." 

I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I know I'll regret. "Please, Carter. Just let it go."

"I seem to remember you promising it wouldn't affect you doing your job." 

"And it hasn't." I turn to look at him and instantly wish I hadn't. He's still wearing his glasses and his hair is mused from him running his fingers through it. "I can't do anything until I get a call about when and where."

"So you thought it would be okay if you made a pit stop to get you some." Carter makes it a statement, not a question.

"I was there and horny and he was naked and willing." I shrug. "What do you want me to say? I've known this kid his whole life. We became friends with benefits six years ago. I currently see no reason to not take him up on what he was offering." And I don't. Until Carter and I get our shit together, I don't feel bad about fucking other people. But once I tell him…

For the second time today I have an epiphany. This conversation, and the argument earlier, is because Carter is jealous. I can smell it just like I can smell his other emotions. I didn't recognize it because I've never smelt it from him concerning me before.

Of course the feeling's mutual. I was never jealous over Adair, but I find the thought of Carter being with _anyone_ , not just another man, has me fighting a jealous fit. Once he knows about me and we have a discussion about what he is to me, he won't be allowed to even look at another person. Unless they're a donor, that is.

Carter wearily removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body. "Go home, Dean. It's late and we're both tired. We can discuss this once the case is over."

"You planning on going home anytime soon?"

"Soon. Don't worry about me." If he only knew that I can't help _but_ worry, what with him being my Mate and all.

"Carter…" I start to scold.

"Please, Dean. Just go."

I nod slowly, grab my jacket off the back of my chair and head out. With the way the day has gone, I decide against going upstairs and instead head to the house that is my official address. Since I don't actually live there, the master bedroom is full of exercise equipment including a heavy bag and a speed bag.

I change into a pair of sweat shorts and pull on my sparring gloves, walking into the room and over to the corner where the bags are. I spend a few minutes doing a warm up and stretches, then move in front of the heavy bag. I begin slowly and build up to a full on attack of the bag, pouring all my frustration out on the leather hanging in front of me.

This is one time I'm glad I no longer sweat because I'm sure it would be dripping into my eyes and that's a fucking distraction that I don't need right now. After several minutes of abusing the heavy bag, I move on to the speed bag. This one's my favorite because I can let loose and give my Vampire enhanced speed a real workout. I keep at the speed bag until I can't ignore my hunger anymore. 

Not even bothering to clean up, I slip next door and charm the pretty single woman into bed. For the first time in hundreds of years, I feel guilty for feeding without the Human being aware of it and yet not guilty enough to not sneak out while she's still sleeping and the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon.

I blame what I do next on the guilt I feel over the neighbor woman. Why else would I drive over to Jonathan's house reeking of some woman, when what I really want to do is confide in Carter?

Jonathan, God bless him, does exactly what I need him to do; when he opens the door and finds me standing there looking like someone just killed my best friend, he just takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I get from Jonathan what I never got from my wife: compassion, understanding and comfort and for the first time since he showed up at my door six years ago, I feel a deep sadness that he's not my Soul Mate.

I've never been one for cuddling, not even with the women I take to my bed, but today I need that closeness and Jonathan seems to know that. 

I'm lying on my back with Jonathan draped over my chest, his head on my right shoulder, one arm and leg thrown over me. He's drawing circles around my left nipple. "I can hear you thinking." He turns his head to look up at me, resting his chin on my chest.

I tuck my left hand behind my head and run the thumb of my right hand up his spine. The kid puts up with a lot from me, so I decide that maybe he’s earned himself a little reward. "Just thinking about the last time I knew you."

He sits up quickly, excitement shining in his eyes. "You've never even mentioned that you knew me before."

"Yeah, I was kinda hoping you'd remember on your own, but apparently you're not gonna, so…" I shrug.

"So, who was I?" He gives a little bounce.

I can't stop the chuckle at his antics. Scratching at my belly, I try and figure out how to tell him just who he was in the past. "I don't think you'll like it."

He hits me in the face with a pillow. "I want to know! I've been wondering about it. You know that. So spill, McGillis or so help me I'll-"

"Alright, alright." I sit up, still laughing at his childish antics. Right here and now he reminds me so much of his past life that I feel a twinge of homesickness. "Your name was Myra."

His eyes just about pop out of his head and his mouth gaps open. "I was a woman!?"

"Not just any woman, Jon. The McKinnon's favorite and my first." Suddenly he doesn’t seem so excited, or at least not so happy to know.

"I was a whore!?" His voice has risen to a pitch that can only be called feminine and which I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate me pointing out.

"Told you, you wouldn't like it." And I'm proud of myself for not doing anything except give a faint smirk that I just can't keep down.

"But, but, but… a _whore_!?"

I hold up a hand in a plea for peace. "Calm down, Jonathan. Remember when you showed up at my door six years ago?"

He throws me an irritated look. "You try calming down after being told you were the castle whore." He sniffs and turns so that he's leaning against the headboard next to me, a pillow clutched in his lap. "Of course I remember. Best night of my life. Of course I'd only been alive four months at that point."

"Then you remember me telling you that while you might not be Daniel's Mate anymore, you _are_ still someone special?"

Jonathan rolls his eyes. "You're not gonna go all girly on me, are you?"

"No." I shift a bit so I can see his face better. "Myra was someone I considered a very good friend. She was someone I could talk to about just about everything. I learned a lot from her."

"But a _whore_ , Dean. I. Was. A. Whore." He can't seem to get past that point. But honestly I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of it; God knows this kid dives into sex like he’s found his true calling, and he enjoys it more than anyone I know. 

"I know, Jon. But she had a gentle heart and did what she had to, to survive in difficult times. Back then women had three choices; get married and have children, become a nun or become a whore. Our village was so far north that we didn't have a kirk nearby which meant the priest came very rarely and so becoming a nun wasn't really an option for the women in our village. As for getting married, Myra wasn't the prettiest girl around and her father was almost as poor as mine. Back then if a woman had expectations she usually had to leave home to find them. And to do that, you need money, which she didn't have. So when she caught the eye of whoever was her first, she chose the only option left to her."

"What do you mean she had expectations?" Finally he's gotten past the fact that his primary occupation was spreading his legs for any man who wanted him.

"I mean she needed to marry a rich man. Of course any woman not of noble birth had expectations. Well, and some who were of noble birth. Most people don't know it but the majority of Scotland was poor, even the nobility. Highlanders seemed to be the poorest. Must have been because of how far from England we were. Lowlanders had better access to England and its riches so they tended to have fuller coffers."

"So when you say you were the poorest in your clan?"

"I mean we were the last in line to get food. Most people had two, maybe three léinte, I had one. My mother had to scrimp and save to buy material for each léine when I outgrew the old one. She was always working on the next one for me. A few times she didn't get it finished in time. In fact, once I split my léine down the back while cutting wood because I'd outgrown it and she hadn't finished the new one. She finished it just hours before she died." I didn't mean to go there but once I got on the subject, I couldn't stop.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

I nod. "Her and my Da passed in their sleep from starvation." And I don’t really like to talk about it. Waking up one morning and suddenly realizing I was an orphan is not one of my more treasured memories. 

"Dean." His voice is full of compassion and it almost breaks me. Before I can guess what he's about, he's straddling my lap and is placing tiny kisses on my face. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I've begun to cry and he's kissing my tears away. "You still miss them."

I hate when people can read me this well. Nodding slowly so as to not dislodge where he has his head tucked under my chin, I answer him. "Yeah, I do. They died so that I could have more to eat. I was growing like a weed." I swallow thickly and gear myself up to tell the rest of my story.

He surprises me by leaning up and placing a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth. "I don't need to know."

"You don't want to know how you taught me how to fuck a woman so well that she forgets her own name?"

"Nah. I'd rather you show me." Bless you, Jonathan, for knowing how to pull me out of my funk.

"Of course you would," I purr, rolling him over and showing him just what I learned from Myra, and a few tricks I learned from Adair as well.

Just as I'm drifting off with Jonathan once again curled around me like a large housecat, my cell rings. He stirs enough to roll over so I can lean over and snag my shorts off the floor and dig my phone out.

Caller ID says it's Vinnie. "Speak."

_"5:30. Warehouse 36 down by the docks."_ The voice on the other end of the phone is not Vinnie; I'm guessing it belongs to The Crusher. _"Bring the kid."_

"Was planning on it."

_"Bring no one other than the kid."_

I roll my eyes. Does this guy think I'm stupid? "Wasn't planning on telling anyone."

_"Smart boy,"_ he says, then hangs up.

Twisting my upper body around, I deliver a stinging slap to Jonathan's bare ass. "Get up. It's time to sell your ass into prostitution."

"Wha'?" He raises his head and blinks sleepily at me. "Feels like we just went to sleep." He yawns wide enough for me to see that while Jack had his tonsils removed, Loki gave them back when he made Jonathan.

"Maybe because we did."

He rubs his eyes like a little boy. "What time's it?"

"Little before noon. Maybe you shouldn't have invested in those blackout curtains."

"Bite me," he grumbles, rolling from the bed and heading for the shower. He pauses in the doorway and turns to look at me over his shoulder. "Care to join me?"

"If I do that we'll be late and you won't be able to play the part of a virgin." He pouts at me and tries to get me to change my mind with one of his sexier looks. "None of that now." I make shooing motions with my hands. "Go. I want to leave in ten."

He pauses, and for some reason he becomes very solemn, like he's sensed something. "This is the last time we'll be like this, isn't it?"

I can't help but nod. "I'm gonna be telling Carter once this case is over, yes."

"I both admire and hate you for your faithfulness."

I chuckle at the petulant tone of his voice. "If Carter ever even hints at wanting to do a threesome, I'll be sure to call you first."

He nods and reluctantly turns to enter the bathroom. A couple of seconds later, I hear the water turn on and get out of bed, hesitant to do this.

I always carry a go-bag in my car, so I slip my shorts on so I can run out and grab it before heading to the guest bath in order to wash the stink of sex off me. While bathing, I plan my script for the coming meeting, making a mental note to remind Jonathan to follow my lead.

It isn't until I'm drying myself that I remember I need to call Carter. I enter Jonathan's room to find him standing with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, contemplating the contents of his closet. He turns when I clear my throat. "The costume is still in the car. Since I'm supposedly bringing you straight from school, you might want to go put it on."

When he leaves the room, I grab my phone off the bedside table where I dropped it after the call from The Crusher. Pressing the speed dial for Carter, I pull the clean uniform out of my bag.

_"Carter,"_ he barks after three rings.

"It's me. I got the call." Tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, I begin pulling on my boxer briefs. "5:30 at warehouse 36 down by the docks."

_"Got it."_

"He warned me to not bring anyone other than the kid."

_"Good to know."_ There's a pause and I can hear Carter breathing and I'm fairly certain he's trying to decide if he should say whatever it is he has to say or not. _"I want you both in vests."_

"That'll kinda tip the target off to who I am, Boss," I say, slipping my shirt on and beginning to button it.

_"Under your shirt, Dean."_

"I don't have one and I'm nearly positive he doesn't either."

_"Then I guess you'll have to bring him to the loft."_

"Should I blindfold him first?"

Carter growls low in his throat. _"Don't get smart, Dean."_

"Just checking because of how you reacted to the last person I brought over." I can hear Carter grinding his teeth, then silence when he hangs up without saying anything else.

I must admit that annoying Carter is way more fun than it probably should be, and I have a feeling it'll just get even more entertaining once we've Bonded. 

Jonathan comes back in just as I finish dressing and without another word he quickly dons the rented uniform. You'd think after spending his entire adult life in the Air Force, he'd know how to tie a tie but it seems to get away from him today. "Nervous?" I ask, stepping up to him and batting his hands away before he can make an even bigger mess, then tying a perfect Windsor knot, leaving it slightly undone along with the top two buttons.

"Just a little. Always happens. It'll go away once the op is officially underway." He slips into the jacket, then turns and heads downstairs with me following tight on his heels.

The drive to the loft is made in silence and I can see him getting into character, mentally preparing himself for what's coming. It's been a while since I've seen this side of him, the last time he still had the right to be called 'Jack', and it ended in a way that I'd rather not remember.

We arrive at the loft and head upstairs. In the elevator, I turn to him. "Only Jaimie knows I'm a Vampire so watch what you say." For once he just nods without an argument. "Carter and Jaimie both know that I've slept with you. Ty only knows I'm not picky about the gender of my bed partners but I don't think he really likes it, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't throw out any innuendos while we're here."

"Spoil all my fun, why don't ya." He pouts so very prettily but I can't let it change my mind about this.

I grab his shoulder and turn him to look at me. "This is my job, Jon. I have to work with these people so I'd really like it if you would act your age."

He looks at me through his lashes. "And which age would that be?"

I narrow my eyes as anger begins to build. "I'm asking for a favor here. _Don't_ make me beg."

He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll be on my best behavior." His eyes snap open and bore into mine. "But if you haven't told Carter by this time next week, I'll come back and tell him myself. Am I clear?"

"What are you, my da?"

His lips twist in a wry grin. "If I am then what we've been doing is illegal."

"Jon," I growl just as the elevator comes to a stop.

"Right. Sorry." He steps forward and opens the doors, entering the tiny hall between the elevator and the door to the loft as if he belongs there.

Jaimie, Ty and Carter are clustered around Jaimie's desk, checking out weapons, making sure they're clean and loaded, and all three look up at the sound of the door clanging shut behind Jonathan and I.

"Everyone, this is Jonathan. Jon, this is Jaimie, Ty and Carter." I make the introductions, doing my level best to not look Carter in the eye.

Jonathan tucks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels in a classic Jack O'Neill 'I'm gonna let the natives think I'm an idiot' pose. Until his gaze locks with Jaimie's that is. "Hello," he says, his voice taking on a seductive note, one that Jaimie, thankfully, seems to be immune to. Well, immune for now at any rate.

When Jonathan approaches where she's standing, one hand extended, I warn him, "She has a boyfriend." He just shrugs. Of course that doesn't matter to him. Once he figured out that he's no longer constrained by the rules that governed his life for so long, he became everything Jack always wanted to be and refused to acknowledge. And that includes sleeping with whoever catches his fancy, whether or not they have a significant other.

"It's alright, Dean," Jaimie says, waving one hand in an off-hand manner.

"Oh, so you and Scott are on the outs, again?"

Jaimie glares at me out of the corner of her eye while taking Jonathan's hand, which he turns over to brush a kiss across her knuckles. My eyes narrow at the shiver that trips down Jaimie's spine, a shiver that I'm fairly certain only Jonathan, Jaimie and I are aware of. I tilt my head when Jonathan leans in toward Jaimie and whispers something in her ear that has her stifling a giggle. Could it possibly be? No, surely not. 

"Dean." Carter's voice draws my attention from where Jonathan is trying to charm the pants off Jaimie.

Turning reluctantly, I face Carter, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

"What's the script?"

I glance over at Ty, who appears to be absorbed in checking his weapon. "I told my contact that the kid's gotten to be a nuisance and I need him gone before he loses me my job at the school he attends. So when we arrive at the warehouse, I'll basically drag him from the car and over to the target."

"Will he be able to follow your lead?" Carter nods at where Jonathan is still flirting with Jaimie.

My attention is once again snagged by the scene being played out just feet from me, and Carter has to actually poke my shoulder to get me to respond. "What? Oh, yeah. Like I said, we've done ops together before. He knows his role and he won't diverge from it." 

"You better get him and yourself into vests," Carter says, once more pulling my attention from Jonathan and Jaimie.

I slip up and look Carter in the eye, instantly wishing I hadn't. Adair is staring back at me as if he was actually standing in front of me and not Carter. It'll be just my luck that this case will take more than just this afternoon. I need to tell Carter and start getting him used to the idea of becoming a Vampire, like yesterday. The need is thrumming through me, making me feel like I'm touching a livewire.

Clenching my hands into fists, lest I reach out and grab Carter so I can drag him off somewhere private, I let the pain of my nails digging into my palms ground me in the here and now. I turn away from Carter to find Jonathan still charming Jaimie. Growling low in my throat, I grab Jonathan's collar and drag him out of the main area toward the room where we store all our gear.

To give Jonathan his due, he picks up on my mood. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes by flirting with Jaimie –" He trails off when I spin on my heel to glare at him.

"That has nothing to do with anything. If you want to pant after some skirt that's currently dating a lawyer, it's no skin off my nose." With a slight shove, I release his collar, then turn and stalk over to the cabinet where the Kevlar vests are kept.

Opening it up, I pull out two vests. Turning back to where he's still standing, looking like I just kicked his puppy, I'm instantly sorry for taking my frustration out on him. Dropping one vest on a nearby table, I carry the other over to him. Reaching out slowly with one hand, I'm encouraged when he doesn't flinch from my touch. I cup his cheek and rub my thumb across his cheekbone. "I'm sorry, Jon. My instincts are in high gear right now and everything makes me jumpy. Nick says this means the time's right, so trust me when I say that I'll be telling Carter just as soon as this case is over."

Jonathan brings one hand up to cover mine and he turns his head to brush a kiss to my palm. "You had better. Even though it means I'll lose you, you deserve to finally be Mated, Bonded and happy."

I smile sadly and tap his cheek. "Take your shirt off." He raises one eyebrow. "Please, Neilson. We don't have time for that. Carter wants you in a vest, that's all."

Holding my gaze, he begins to loosen his tie so he can slip it off over his head. Instead of dropping it on the floor, or handing it to me, he slips it over my head. Then he takes off his jacket and hands it to me before unbuttoning his shirt, which he also hands to me. When he reaches for the vest, I tuck his shirt and jacket under my arm and assist him into it. Once the straps are tight enough, I wrap one hand around the back of his head and pull him into one last kiss.

"Sometimes I still wish that you were my Mate, Jonathan. It'd make my life so much easier, ya know?" I rest my forehead against his, his breath warm against my face.

"Yeah, I know. But life's not supposed to be easy."

"I guess not." I've never been the type to pay attention to my feelings beyond anger, hunger and the need to fuck, but here, now, with Jonathan, it feels too much like a good-bye and since I've known him his whole life, I can't help but feel a profound sadness that I'll never have the right to touch him again. 

"You about to go all girly on me, Bendis?" Jonathan snaps me out of my funk.

I totally ignore his question and assist him back into his shirt and jacket, replacing his tie and tightening it a little. Jonathan can read me in a way that no one else can, for now, and he just grins at my attempt to pretend I hadn't just gone all emotional on him.

Turning my back, I pull off my jacket and shirt, then pick up the vest and put it on. Once the straps are tightened properly, I put my shirt and jacket back on with jerky movements that give voice to my mood. Hoping that Jonathan continues to read me correctly and realizes he needs to keep his trap shut for now, I turn back around and head back to the main area where my team is waiting for us.

Jaimie all but pounces on Jonathan the instant she sees us, pulling him off to the side where the two of them once more begin to flirt with each other. Their body language snags my attention. I shove my hands in my pockets and tilt my head trying to figure out if what I'm thinking is true, or if it's just Jonathan sniffing around a pretty girl who's almost as sexual as he is.

"Dean." Carter's voice breaks through my contemplation of the pair and reminds me why we're really here.

"Carter," I reply, approaching where he's standing.

"We've got the perimeter covered." He points to a map of the docks that's laid out on the desk in front of him. "Ty wants to put eyes inside but I figure guys like this don't avoid capture as long as they have without taking the precaution of searching for that kind of stuff."

"Speaking of Ty, what's going on with his plan to get the main guy?" My question has Ty growling softly. "Did they make you?"

"Yeah. The second I entered the place, they were on me like stink on shit." He shifts his weight and I can smell his barely contained anger. "I did, however, discover that these clubs aren't your everyday sex clubs."

My eyebrows climb my forehead upon hearing that. "Oh?" I prompt when he doesn't continue right away.

"Yeah, they're vampire clubs. Saw a shit load of the fuckers crawling all over the kids, some adults and each other. Disgusting bastards."

I just barely refrain from letting him know what my opinion of his opinion of Vampires is. A quick glance over my shoulder shows that neither Jaimie nor Jonathan heard what Ty had to say about my species, or maybe they just decided to let me handle it. Whatever the case is, I have to let it go. It's not like it's the first time I've had to ignore an insult delivered to my face by someone not in the know.

"You don't like Vampires, Ty?" I tempt fate by asking the one question I really need the answer to. Since I'll be coming out to Carter soon, and Turning him not much longer after that (gods willing), I really need to know just where Ty stands on the whole Vampire thing.

He shrugs. "Never really thought about them as a whole. Just know that the bunch in that particular club are disgusting. To think they used to be human." A shudder of revulsion skates down his spine. 

"I'm surprised they let you leave without some kind of parting gift." And I am. While I'm not sure which club he managed to get an invite to, not all Vampires are Human friendly, nor are all the Vampires in America members of Sylum. 

"There were several that wanted to ugly up my pretty face but the bossman said something about not wanting to anger someone named Nico. I don't know anyone named Nico so I have no idea what was meant by that." I know exactly what the main guy meant. He made Ty as one of mine, and by default one of Sylum's. If he's worried about angering Nick then he's most likely someone who tries to stay on Nick's good side whether or not he's allied with him. "Carter and Jaimie both have already confirmed they don't know anyone by that name. What about you? You ever heard it before?"

I pretend to think about it for a minute or two before shaking my head. "Nope. Can't say as I have. Why don't we just be thankful to this unknown man since he saved you from a serious beat down?"

"Sure, let's do that," Carter interrupts, annoyance heavy in his voice. "Now, can we get back on topic? And let's try and not stray again, please." Ty and I share a look and it goes a long way to making me forget my loneliness, at least for the moment. "If I could have your attention for just a moment, ladies, you can get lost and maybe, just maybe, actually earn your paycheck."

"Sorry about that, Carter," Ty apologizes.

"Dean, what's the signal gonna be?" Carter ignores Ty's apology, doing his best to keep us on topic.

"Well, it doesn't really matter since you won't have ears inside."

Carter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box about the size of a ring box. "This is state of the art. Can't be detected by anything currently on the market and looks just like a hearing aide. You'll be able to hear everything I say, and I'll be able to hear everything going on around you." He flips the box open and hands it to me. 

Nestled inside on a bed of cotton, is a tiny earwig that does indeed resemble a hearing aide. And it is state if the art, or it was, nearly thirty years ago. It was invented by one of Nick's spy scientists and only just last year was made available for use by Humans.

I pick it up and put it in my ear, making eye contact with Carter at the same time. Carter's eyebrows have climbed his forehead to almost disappear in his hair line. It takes me a moment to realize he's waiting for me to tell him what the signal will be. Flicking my eyes to Ty, I lick my lips and try to come up with something that won't sound stupid when dropped into the middle of a conversation. "How about… 'See ya around, kid'?"

"Got it." Carter begins to fold up the map. "Dean," he calls me back when I start to follow Ty and Jaimie from the room. 

I decide it's in my best interest to remain silent for the moment so I just turn and look at him, one brow raised. "Make sure you use it before everything goes south. Last thing I need is to pull your sorry ass outta some fire that could have been prevented."

I don't want to agree and then end up making myself a liar, but then again, if I don't he won't let me leave until I do. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I settle my weight on one foot. "If I feel that things are getting beyond my control, I'll give the signal." It's the best I can give him because it's not a lie and yet not agreement to give the signal when he thinks I should. And he knows exactly what I mean.

His eyes narrow on my face but he seems to realize that it's all the concession he's going to get and nods his acceptance. "See that you do."

I give a nod of assent, then turn once more and amble over to where Jonathan's hovering by the door. He gives me a look similar to the one I got from John several days ago. "You're not going to use the signal, are you?" Kid's too damn perceptive, as usual.

"Just do the job I require of you and stay the fuck outta my personal life." I instantly feel bad for snapping like that when all expression falls from his face.

He turns to face the door of the elevator and shoves his hands in his pockets. "So fucking sorry. Won't happen again. Ever."

"Jon…" I try and apologize only to have him shoot me down.

"Don't, Dean. Just…don't." He reaches out and hits the stop button before turning to face me. "I get that you're not sure what to feel right now. Trust me, I. Get. It. But-" he holds up one finger when I try to interrupt. " _But_ that does not give you the right to treat those of us who know who you truly are like we're an annoyance you can't fucking wait to get rid of." He lowers his head and stares at the floor. "You've finally found Adair again after over a thousand years, bully for you. But for me-" he raises his head and looks me dead in the eye. "After over a decade of trying to get Daniel to _see me_ -" he pounds one fist on his chest twice. "I have to start over and since I can't go anywhere near Sylum or any of the local vamp bars, I have no clue how I'm going to go about finding my new Mate. So don't stand there and expect me to feel sorry for you because I can't. Not at this time. But I meant what I said earlier. If you don't tell Carter by this time next week, he'll be getting an anonymous letter telling him the truth and then you'll get in trouble for being unregistered." 

Jonathan's impassioned speech is like a slap in the face. I've been so preoccupied with figuring out how to tell Carter that I haven't even once thought about how all this is affecting those who know I'm a Vampire in general, and Jonathan in particular. The one thing that sticks with me is that he's not sure how he'll find his new Mate and it has me wondering if I should let him in on my suspicions about him and Jaimie but then I decide I won't get anything good out of him if I do. "You're right, Jon. I'm sorry. I guess after all this time and pretending in front of those who don't know, that I thought… hell, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. There's never a good reason to take a bad mood out on a friend." I reach out and put one hand on his shoulder. "Forgive me?"

He sighs, reaches up and wraps the fingers of one hand around my wrist. "Nothing to forgive, old friend. We're both frustrated with the state of our sex lives." He shrugs, dislodging my hand. "It's all good."

One corner of my mouth quirks in a tiny humorless smile. "No, it's not."

"You're right, it's not." He flips the switch and the elevator starts moving again with a lurch. "But it will be."

"It had fucking well better be," I mutter, drawing a laugh from him.

When the car stops, Jonathan slaps me on the back and steps out, heading for my truck. I follow and climb behind the wheel and fitting the key in the ignition, give it a sharp twist to turn over the engine. Putting it in gear, I head in the direction of the docks and the warehouse where I'll be 'selling' Jonathan into sexual slavery.

With one elbow propped on the door and my other hand draped over the steering wheel, I take little peeks at Jonathan's profile out of the corner of my eye. I can actually see him settling into his character, finding the mindset of a prep school student who thinks he's in love with an employee at his school. Rubbing my chin on my shoulder, I open my mouth and ruin Jonathan's concentration. "When this is over, you and I need to sit down and talk."

"You practicing for how you're gonna tell Carter?"

Never thought he'd go there. "No. You and I need to talk when this is over."

His brows lower in a frown of confusion. "Why? I already know you're a vamp."

I chuckle a little. "Not about that."

"Then what?" He's starting to get annoyed.

I shake my head. "Not gonna say because you won't focus on the case if I tell you now."

He growls low in his throat. "You know I can't stand not knowing something. Give me a hint?"

"Sorry, buddy."

"I hate you," he mutters, flopping back in his seat and thumping his head against the headrest a couple of times.

"I know." I reach over and push against his temple causing his head to flop a bit to the side, almost hitting the window. "I hate you, too."

The rest of the drive is made in silence. When the docks come into view I decide it's time to give him some instructions. Luckily, he knows exactly what I need from him and he nods his understanding of everything I say.

I turn a corner and the warehouse comes into view. Jonathan takes this as his cue to begin playing his role. "Why are we here, Dean? You said you were taking me somewhere we could be alone. Somewhere special."

We decided to begin playing our roles in the car before we even get near the warehouse in case they have someone watching who can read lips. "Shut up, kid."

He looks at me, fear making his eyes bug out and his mouth hanging open. "Whatever it is you're planning, I… look, I'm sorry, okay? I promise I'll stop hanging around. I swear! I'll even beg my parents to send me to another school. Just please, don't do this! Please!" His voice breaks on the last word, a pitiful sob escaping.

Oh, he's _good_. I duck my head to hide my smile. "Shoulda thought of that sooner." I come to a stop in front of warehouse 36 with a squeal of the brakes and a cloud of dust.

When he scrambles for the door handle, I flick the lock and he whines low in his throat. "Dean, please!" he begs again. "I'm sorry, Dean!"

I ignore him and climb from the truck, making sure my door is locked behind me. I stalk around the front of the truck. When I reach the passenger door, we spend several minutes fighting over whether or not the door remains locked; I eventually win and pull the door open to drag him kicking and screaming from the cab by his collar. As soon as his feet hit the ground, I shift my grip to his arm and begin force marching him across the open expanse to the door of the warehouse.

He digs in his heels and turns his face toward me, tears running down his cheeks. "Please, Dean! Don't do this! I love you." Another sob escapes.

"No, you just think you love me because I'm the first man to show you any amount of attention. But that's over now. You'll get all the attention you could ever want real soon."

Just before we enter the warehouse, I purposely pull Jonathan off-balance so that he falls into me and I can whisper in his ear, "Please ignore anything hurtful that I might say." He glances up sharply at me and I can see understanding shining in his eyes.

With a firm shove between his shoulder blades, I push him ahead of me into the warehouse. He stumbles several steps and just barely manages to correct his balance by cartwheeling his arms.

"You have impeccable timing, Brown." The Crusher steps out of the shadows.

"Yeah, well, your call came at the perfect time. Little brat was trying to crawl onto my lap despite the fact that anyone could have seen it."

"I was not!" Jonathan argues.

"Shut up, you!" I snap, raising my left arm over my right shoulder in preparation of backhanding him.

"Nakamura would not be pleased were you to damage your own merchandise." A petite Japanese man steps up next to Crusher.

"It's really all these rich bastards understand. Their parents are way too lenient on them."

"Still, we would be most appreciative if you refrained from striking the child." I lower my arm and get a nod of thanks along with a relieved sigh from Jonathan. I know he could have, and most certainly would have, taken the hit but he'd rather not have to.

"You were instructed to bring a picture of the child completely naked," the Japanese man says, stepping toward me, one hand out-stretched, palm open and facing the ceiling. I pull the edited photos of a completely naked Jonathan from my pocket and place them in his palm. He quickly flips through them, stopping when he comes upon one that catches his attention more than the others. With the way he looks up at Jonathan, I can only guess it's one of the ones where Jonathan's stroking his dick. "If you are so intent on getting rid of him, why did you let him do this while you watched?"

I give a one shouldered shrug and grab a hold of Jonathan's collar when he tries to slip away. "I didn't tell him to do that and I didn't stop it because I figured your boss might just like seeing it." Pulling Jonathan closer, I lean in to hiss in his ear, "Just where do you think you're going?"

He gulps and looks up at me with his eyes open impossibly wide. "Please, Dean." His voice is tiny and it goes straight through my heart. I can't let his performance get to me and I blame that on what I do next.

With a low growl, I release Jonathan's collar with a shove using more force than necessary. Jonathan has one of the most stable stances I've ever seen and it takes a lot to push him off-balance. Even though I'm fairly certain he's still playing, I'm slightly surprised when he falls to the ground but his small cry of pain reassures me that he took a pratfall and isn't truly injured. "Stop begging. You're making me look bad in front of the clients."

"He had better not be injured." The Japanese man brings my attention back to him. He's standing looking down his nose at where Jonathan's sprawled in an inelegant heap on the floor at my feet. I reach down and pull him upright and he winces at how tight my grip on his bicep is. When I release it, I give a surreptitious caress of my fingers in apology. "Do not leave," Japan says before spinning around on his heel with military precision and going through a door that most likely leads to some kind of office. 

"Not planning on going anywhere, Boss," I reply, shifting my grip to the back of Jonathan's shirt. "Haven't been given any bank for the kid," I confirm when Crusher and Japan just look at me.

Japan is gone for just a couple of minutes. When he returns all he does is hold the door open. I pull Jonathan along behind me and when we get to the door I put my hand between his shoulder blades and shove, causing him to stumble into the room. For some reason he doesn't catch himself before he falls to the floor and his hiss of pain tells me he didn't fall on purpose.

I step up next to him and put one hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising, hoping that him kneeling will please the target since the Japanese culture is so reliant on one person being subservient.

My first look at the target has me forgetting to breathe. He's the spitting image of Motohito, who was the Emperor of Japan when I was living there in the early 1400s. I was unaware his line had survived to this day. The back of my neck starts to prickle so I count the number of heartbeats and subtract that from the number of known Vampires (me) in the room, and come up with one less heartbeat than there should be. _So, not a descendant, but_ the _honest-to-Buddha Emperor. Wonder who was stupid enough to Turn his sorry ass?_ And then I realize it must have been after he was officially pronounced dead and another Emperor named in his place. _How in hell did they convince him to not try and regain his throne?_ The man I remember as Emperor of Japan in 1400 never would have allowed someone else to rule his empire. Especially when he is more than capable of ruling himself.

My samurai training takes over and I bow deeply from the waist, my eyes respectfully lowered. "Nakamura-sama, kono kyuu douzo." The atmosphere in the room gets heavy with Japan and Nakamura's surprise. Guess no one expects some dumb blue collar worker to know Japanese.

"Okiru." The tone of Nakamura's voice shows that he's used to always being instantly obeyed. I stand tall, with my shoulders back and eyes locked on his chin.

"If the boy is a token of devotion, what do you suggest I do with the payment?" I flick my eyes over to where Japan is standing next to the desk and an open briefcase full of money.

"A token he may be, but I still have bills and a girlfriend who prefers the finer things in life. So I think I'll take that." I step closer to the desk and pick up a stack of hundreds.

Flipping quickly through it, I take note that the entire stack is actual hundred dollar bills. Setting it aside, I pick up the one under it and repeat the process, followed by a third stack. Since most people will only check maybe the top two stacks it's a common trick to have the top stacks full of actual money while the bottom layers only have a real bill on the top and bottom with pieces of paper between. The term 'paper money' is very much misleading because bills are actually printed on a linen blend with the recipe being a very highly guarded secret. This makes it easy to determine if paper is used to round out the stacks or not.

Once satisfied that the money is all real, I close the case with a snap, pick it up and step back to stand next to where Jonathan is till kneeling. "Thanks for the cash, Boss," I say to Japan. "But I really must be going now."

"Not yet," Nakamura says. "The boy will disrobe before I allow you to leave with my money."

_So over the centuries Motohito lost his arrogance and learned how to act like a regular Human. Sort-of. Japanese Emperors are told they’re divine from the minute they’re old enough to learn speech, so apparently even six hundred years isn’t enough time for one to learn how to say please._ I can’t help a smirk, but I do bow again slightly to pacify him. "Yeah, not gonna happen. I gave you pictures. Besides, I'd rather not be present while you do your thing with him. I refuse to be named as an accessory to statutory rape."

"I really must insist." He pulls a WWII German pistol from his pocket, and ain't that just fuckin' ironic? "Have him disrobe, now."

"Easy, now, Boss." I drop the case and put both hands up, palms out, to show I'm unarmed and to signal my surrender. "Is there really a need to see the kid naked with me present?"

"If you want to walk out that door with my money, you will do as I say."

"Is the gun necessary?" I reach down to help Jonathan stand up.

"If it makes you do as ordered, then yes."

_"We're coming in Dean,"_ Carter informs me and I can hear a rustling that I take to mean Carter, Jaimie, and Ty are running from the command center toward where we are.

I continue to try and get Nakamura to put the gun down and when I hear a struggle in the other room, I push Jonathan to the floor. And just in time, too, since Carter bursts through the door in the exact second I hear the thud of Jonathan's body hitting the floor.

"LAPD! Put down your weapons!" Carter demands from right behind me just as Nakamura pulls the trigger. 

The force of the bullet slamming into my Kevlar covered chest spins me around like a top, Carter's enraged eyes just a blur before I drop to the floor with enough force to bounce my head off the old wooden planks, twice, and then my world goes dark.


	4. Chapter 4

I must have made a noise or something because Jaime's "Easy, Dean", while spoken Vampire-soft, is loud enough to make the little men with pickaxes that are currently trying to bust out of my skull via my eye sockets redouble their efforts. For the first time in a long time, I wish to God I could take some kind of pain reliever.

"What the fuck happened?" I moan. When I try to sit up, the world spins crazily so I just lay my head back down and close my eyes again. Vampires might not be able to die from regular head wounds but they can sure as hell get concussions, and it's a feeling I'm all too familiar with. 

"You took one in the chest. Thank God, you actually listened to Carter for once!" Jaimie pats me right over the bruise that won't go away until I can feed, causing me to wince at the slight pain. "Not even your EMT friends here-" she nods her head in the direction of the open door at the rear of the ambulance, where I can see several EMTs milling around once I decide to open my eyes just enough to see who she's talking about, and sure enough there are familiar Chosen faces making sure everyone is okay. "-could have covered that."

Getting tired of the little men with pick-axes complaining about the bright light illuminating their world, I close my eyes and hope it'll make them happy enough that they'll stop taking their aggression out on the inside of my skull. "I've taken one in the vest before. The kick's not enough to knock me unconscious."

"And so it wasn't. But the kick from a point blank shot to the chest was enough to spin you around and knock you off your feet. Even a Vampire as old as you can't stay conscious when your head bounces off the floor like a basketball."

That explains the wonderful 'concussed' feeling, which drowns out the notion that Jaimie might be trying not to laugh at me. I just grunt in reply, taking a few minutes to lie there and heal as much as possible without having to actually move. Or at least, that's the plan until a thought comes to me and my eyes pop open and I sit up too fast. "Carter?" I groan, clutching my head while lying back down.

"He's fine." Jaimie rubs my shoulder in what I'm sure is supposed to be a soothing caress but isn't at this time.

"Jon?" I'd like to think if something had happened to him she would have said by now but I need to know for sure.

"Some minor scrapes from where you shoved him to the floor. He's being checked out in the other ambulance."

I nod slightly, and that doesn't make my world spin _too_ much. "And you?"

She chuckles, not fooled in the least that I asked about her after both Carter _and_ Jon. "I'm fine. Definitely better than the target."

I squint up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Carter killed him." Her relief is evident in her voice and I hate having to ruin that for her.

"No, he didn't." And I almost wish I hadn't said it, because suddenly she seems angry that I'd doubt her word on it.

"How the fuck would you know, Dean Bendis?" Her eyes spit brown fire at me. "You were snoring your ass off on the floor!"

"McGillis," I mutter, knowing it won't really distract her but I haven't said it in far too long. It's another thing on the list of things I haven't let out for a while, really, and normally I wouldn't go there but at the moment my logic is being drowned out by the pounding of the industrial-strength subwoofers somebody seems to have installed inside my skull.

"What?"

"My name." I wave one hand in a random circle. "Well, the one my parents gave me."

"I didn't-" she starts.

"I know," I interrupt. "But I also know you've been dying to."

My ploy works. Somewhat. The heat in her eyes fades and she slumps where she's sitting on the edge of the gurney. "Really, Dean. How could you possibly know that Carter didn't actually kill the bastard?"

"Because he's a Vampire. Not as old as some, older than others. And certainly not the oldest I know. But a Vampire nonetheless."

"And you know this, how?" One of her eyebrows climbs her forehead.

She's not going to rest until she hears everything, I just know it. "I was one of his Samurai when he was Emperor of Japan."

She just blinks at me. "Wh-" She clears her throat. "When was this?"

I sigh. It's never easy to admit to a Human just how old you are. "Back in the late fourteenth century."

Her eyes open impossibly wide. "Fourteenth!? Dear God, Dean. Just how old are you?"

I close my eyes because I've never liked seeing the look on the face of the person I'm talking to when I admit just how old I am. It isn't embarrassing so much as how I just _hate_ seeing their eyes when they realize how much of their 'history' I've seen first-hand. "I was born in 877. That makes me one thousand, one hundred thirty-two years old and I've been a Vampire for one thousand, ninety-nine years." And to be honest, I currently feel each and every one of those years.

"One thousand-" If she wasn't already sitting, I'm sure she would have sat down heavily on the nearest flat surface. "That's-" She shakes her head. "I'm actually speechless!"

I laugh at her response. "No, you're not." She swats me on the arm and I remind her, "Well, you're not. You keep saying stuff." I manage to get a small smile out of her. "Now to get back on topic. Who checked my vitals?"

"Jonathan and I both." She narrows her eyes on my face. "You didn't tell me he knows you're a Vampire."

Now it's my turn for my eyes to open wide. "I didn't?" I know my innocent act isn't fooling her but it does have a smile twitching about the corners of her mouth and maybe – _just maybe_ – she'll forget about how old I am. Pouting's a weapon I save only for desperate times, and I'm not one to brag but it is one I've had plenty of time to perfect. "I do believe I mentioned I've known him his entire life."

"And I'm supposed to know that means he knows about you?"

I sit up slowly, pleased when everything stays where it's supposed to be, and start to remove the IV so I can leave the ambulance. "You're right. But I figured you would make the connection, especially since you asked if he was a Vamp."

She purses her lips but the twinkle in her eyes tells me she's trying to keep from laughing. "I suppose I should have but I wasn't really thinking straight at the time."

Just as we exit the ambulance, Brian, a Chosen whose family has been Chosen Ones for generations, approaches. "You really shouldn't be up and about yet, Detective."

"I'm fine, Brian." I pat him on the shoulder and try to step past him.

"You need more fluids, Dean." He shifts to block my exit. One inconvenient thing about Humans is what we Vampires refer to as their _second_ 'age of wisdom,' when they get just old enough to have a half-ass clue of what they're talking about, but they're still young enough to think they can actually change our minds about something. 

"I don't have an open wound so I don't need that much." I again move to step around him but again he steps in front of me.

Brian then crosses his arms. "She said you fed from her recently." He nods at where Jaimie's standing behind me.

I look over my shoulder at her and she just shrugs. "I had a _snack_ from her recently. But she's not the only Chosen I have, you know that."

Brian's eyes narrow on my face. "I thought you hated those terms."

Must these Humans be so damn frustrating? I've got shit to do, dammit! _Important_ shit! "And so I do but it's the easiest way to explain that I barely took a sip a _couple of days_ ago."

And then Brian pulls out his trump card. "Mom would skin me alive if I let you walk outta here without making sure you're properly hydrated."

I chuckle at the fact that Brian is still afraid of being yelled at by his mother. Clamping one hand on his shoulder, I give it a tiny shake and say, "Tell your mother I insisted despite your best efforts, and that I promise to spend several hours at the club just as soon as my boss lets me outta his sight."

Brian is still unsure about letting me leave without giving me some blood. "You gorge yourself tonight. Understand?" He points one finger at me.

I give him a mock salute. "Yes, sir." Looking over his shoulder at the other ambulance I can see Jonathan sitting on the tailgate still being checked out by another EMT. "You done with the boy?"

He turns to look behind him. "Yeah. You know he looks like-" 

_Crap._ "I know," I interrupt quickly, "but he's not even related."

"You sure?" he asks, and I raise one eyebrow. "Right, of course you're sure. How silly of me to doubt you."

Making eye contact with Jonathan, I beckon him to me with a nod of my head.

Brian turns back to face me. "Nick sent out word-" 

He tries to continue to question me about why Jonathan looks like Jack O'Neill but I'm not about to let this discussion go any further than it already has. "He sent word about what, Brian? An eyes-only government program?" I dip my head and lower my voice to encourage confidentiality. "And when did he send this word?"

"Six years ago. He asked all Chosen to keep a look out for a runaway boy."

Brian's a good kid and all, but this conversation calls for making him feel like he doesn't know squat, so I somewhat contemptuously wonder, "Does he _look_ like a runaway boy?" One of Brian's eyebrows climbs his forehead, and I sigh deeply. "Fine. Do you really think I'd use a minor in an undercover op?"

"Six years ago the boy was fifteen so now he'd be twenty-one." Brian's starting to look smug.

Taking a step closer, I lower my voice even more, making sure only Brian can hear me. "You tell Nico that I have no idea where this 'runaway boy' he's been looking six years for is." Brian's eyes widen, he swallows and gives a stiff nod of understanding. "You will also tell him to stop looking."

"Of course, Detective."

I give a curt nod of acceptance and step back. "Good. The boy he's looking for deserves to live his life without having to look over his shoulder all the time, don't you agree?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean anything by it."

I slap him on the shoulder. "I know, Buddy. You were just trying to do what your Clan Leader requested."

Yes, that second age of wisdom sure is annoying. Brian's at that inconvenient age where he's old enough to know a thinly veiled 'suggestion' from a nicely-aged Vampire when he hears one, and still young enough to give me that damn puppy-dog look as he hopefully asks, "You're not angry?"

Shaking my head, I smile a bit and pull Brian into a hug. "Naw. You were just trying to keep your mother and Clan Leader happy."

"Remember what I said." Brian wags a finger in my face, trying to use every bit of leverage he's got.

"Yes, _Mother_ ," I reply snidely. He snorts in amusement, turns and walks away. And no sooner does Brian leave than my other current personal interrogator latches on to me again.

"What was that all about?" Jaimie asks.

"Not something you need to worry about just now." She makes a rude noise in the back of her throat but lets the subject go. And for a moment, I can almost believe I'm about to catch a break and I'll be able to make my escape, go find Carter, and-

"You mentioned needing to talk to me once this was all over?" Jonathan says, approaching where Jaimie and I are still standing by the ambulance.

Dammit! I scrub one hand over my scalp. Ah well, I've waited this long. And at least I can rationalize it as needing to make the most of these Humans' short life-spans, because once I Turn Carter, he and I will have all the time in the world. Literally. "Actually I need to speak with you both." I cast a look around to make sure no one is paying us any attention before leading the two of them to stand near the front of the ambulance. Turning to face them, I cross my arms over my chest and lean my shoulder against the driver's side door. Looking beyond Jaimie and Jonathan, I watch Carter finish cleaning up the scene. Oh man, Carter's rocking that 'righteous indignation' look. If only he knew what that look did to me…

Jonathan plows right through my little fantasy with a pointed, "Does this have anything to do with what you told me the other day?" 

Placate the humans now, fantasize – no, _do_ Carter later. "Yeah, it does," I answer. Jaimie looks from me to Jonathan and back, confusion wrinkling her brow. "I told Jon about whose soul he has."

"Yeah, we're not gonna talk about that," Jonathan grumbles, wrapping his arms around his upper body and turning his face away.

"Except we are," I counter. "Jon has the soul of a woman I knew when I was Human, named Myra."

"You were a woman!?" Jaimie turns to Jonathan, biting back a laugh.

A sneer curls Jonathan's lip. "Not just a woman, _the castle whore_."

I just barely refrain from slapping him. "Not _the_ castle whore, _a_ castle whore. How many times do I have to tell you that? Besides, she was my first and came to be one of my best friends. And one of just a few women I took to bed on a regular basis."

"Doesn't matter. I spread my legs for anyone who wanted me." Why can't he get past this? Being a whore back in the ninth century wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

"And that's different from how you are now, how?" I raise one eyebrow and hide my smirk at his blush in my hand.

"Hate you," he hisses, his voice pitched low enough for just the three of us to hear him.

Jaimie clears her throat. "You told him about his past life?"

"Yeah, I did." I look over at where she's standing, trying to not picture her as her past life.

"Well?" She bounces in place.

"While I have nothing but fond memories of Jonathan's past life, yours… I never really got along with your past life. In fact, by the time I died I positively hated her."

Jaimie's eyes widen and she actually blanches. "That explains the hostility when we first met."

"Yeah. That and jealousy from the attention Carter was giving you."

She snorts a laugh and tucks her hands in her back pockets, which causes her chest to stick out enough to emphasize her breasts and has Jonathan sneaking peeks out of the corner of his eye. Nice to see that some things never change, though I doubt I'd ever get Jonathan to admit it, and Jaimie jibes, "And now we know just why he was being so attentive, right?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Shall we get back on topic?"

"If ya want." Jaimie shrugs her shoulders and the movement has Jonathan no longer pretending to not be interested.

"Such a horn dog." I can't help but tease him.

"Shut up," he mumbles, once more turning away.

"Back to my past life, if you please, boys." The tone of Jaimie's voice lets me know that I'm dead on about whose soul she has.

God, sometimes I hate talking about the beginning of this lifetime. "When I knew your soul, her name was Erica McKinnon. She was the sister of The McKinnon."

"The…who?" Jaimie interrupts.

"The McKinnon. The leader of the clan."

"Oh!" Her face brightens at the knowledge that she was nobility.

I tuck my hands in my front pockets and lower my gaze to the ground beneath my feet. "Don't get all excited just yet," I tell her. "Erica was a heartless, self-centered bitch."

Jaimie lifts an eyebrow and wonders in a monotone, "Wow. It's a wonder you can stand to be in the same room with me."

"Well, you are most definitely _not_ Erica. Just 'cause you have her soul, doesn't mean you're going to be anything like her. A soul does not determine a person's personality."

Now she's curious. "So why do you hate her? I mean beyond the fact that she was a heartless, self-centered bitch?"

"Erica was a few years younger than me. She was widowed shortly after she was married and by the time she was coming out of her mourning period, one of our biggest enemies was making noise about a marriage to seal a truce between our clans." And may God have had mercy on the poor bastard's soul if that had happened.

But I don't add that last part. I just see the expectant look on Jaimie's face and inform her, "The McKinnon refused to even consider it so he married Erica to The Second McKinnon."

"Wait, he married her to a family member?" Jaimie interrupts to demand, disgust heavy in her tone.

I look up through my lashes at her. "No. He married her to the second in command of the entire clan."

"But, you said-"

"I know what I said. The man's proper title was The Second McKinnon because whenever The McKinnon was away, he was in charge."

"Oh." She looks over at Jonathan and they share a look of confusion. "How does this explain why you hate her?"

A small smile crosses my face; they're making me wait to get to Carter, so I'm going to milk this for all the admittedly petty annoyance I can get. Fair's fair, after all. "I'm getting there." I clear my throat and glance up to make sure there's still no one within hearing distance. "On her wedding day, Erica stood before the priest and the entire clan and swore that her husband would not be the only man to grace her bed. She hated him every bit as much as he hated her and she wanted to humiliate him before the entire clan for having the balls to rise up from his meager beginnings." I pause just to get stock of my audience's wide-eyed shock when they get the gist of Erica's 'wedding vows' before I plow on. "See, the man who was The Second was born to the poorest of the clan's crofters and after his parents died, he challenged The McKinnon and accidentally won the right to sit at his right hand."

Jaimie blinks at me, her mouth open in surprise. It's obvious she remembers what little I've told her of my history. "But, Dean, _you_ were born to the poorest family in your clan."

"Yes, I was."

"Erica was your wife!?" I can't tell if she's pissed over what Erica did to me, or that I hadn't told her before now.

A glance at where Jonathan's standing shows he's just as shocked as Jaimie. "You were married to your laird's sister?"

"Not by choice, I assure you. She was the one person who never accepted me at table. She maintained that I would never be good enough to eat with the 'rich folk' as she called the clan nobility."

"So what happened?" Jonathan asks, leaning forward slightly.

"I told her that she had better make sure she never got pregnant because there was no way in Hell I was going to raise another man's bairn."

"You said that in front of the clan?" Jaimie's eyes are as big as saucers.

Did she not just hear Erica's wedding vows? "If the bitch could swear to share her bed with every man who wanted, then why couldn't I force her to not get pregnant?"

"But that means that you weren't ever going to be a father." For some reason Jaimie's the one who can't get past this point.

"Didn't want kids. The person I was in love with couldn't give me children so-" I shrug.

"Who were you in love with? I mean back then not very many women couldn't conceive."

"I was in love with a man." And I'm surprised that at least Jaimie hasn't made the connection yet.

"And?" they say in unison.

"Back then it may not have been a big deal to have sex with other men before marriage but settling down with one was definitely not something that would be overlooked." 

I shift away from the side of the ambulance until I'm standing up straight, hands pushed deeper into my pockets. "Highland rules allowed men to fuck each other before they married. Once married, though, only women were allowed in your bed. Until your wife died, that is. Marriage to Erica meant that I was no longer allowed to fuck the man I was in love with."

"And you hated her for that, too?" Jonathan asks, head tilted to one side.

"It wasn't her choice anymore than it was mine, so no. I only hated her for the way she treated me."

"So who were you in love with?" I can see Jaimie trying to picture me head over heels for some kilt wearing Highlander.

"His name was Adair McShaw." As I say his name for the first time in years, my eyes land on where Carter is still directing the clean up. Despite him being a direct descendant of Adair's he doesn't look all that much like him but I can see Adair in just about all of Carter's movements.

Jaimie and Jonathan turn as one to follow my gaze, then turn back, Jaimie giving me a look of genuine surprise and Jonathan giving me one of sympathy. "And now you're in love with Carter?" Jaimie asks.

It's the first time I've said it aloud to Jaimie. "Yeah. He's my Soul Mate."

"Wait, McShaw, Shaw. Is Carter related to Adair?" Jaimie's on a bit of a roll. She's really learned how to interrogate a person.

I nod. "He is."

"Oh, Dean," Jaimie breathes, her voice full of compassion.

"It's not that bad, James. Carter has already practically ordered me to tell him my secrets once this case is over."

"So no more feedings?" She actually looks like she'll miss me fucking her while feeding.

Jonathan nudges her with his elbow. "You're not the only one he won't be fucking and feeding from anymore." 

I shake my head to stop Jaimie from responding. "Erica may not have been faithful, but I was. My da always told me to respect the person I'll be spending the rest of my life with. I take my vows seriously and soon I'll be Turning Carter which in Vampire society is as binding as any Human marriage."

"You were celibate for the length of your marriage?" Apparently Jaimie thinks she knows me pretty well.

"Nope. I insisted on twice monthly visits. And The McKinnon backed me. Told her if she denied me my marital rights, he'd disown her."

"That's-" Jaimie starts to protest the way women were treated back then.

"It was the way of the world back then, Jaimie. I certainly don't agree with it now, but back then-" I shrug one shoulder. "-that's just how it was." A glance in Carter's direction tells me I need to finish saying what it is I have to tell them. "But we're getting off topic again."

"And what exactly is the topic, Dean?" Jaimie crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the side of the ambulance.

I scratch the middle of my forehead and try to figure out how to tell them of my suspicions. "I think the two of you may be Soul Mates."

They glance sharply at each other. "Did Erica and Myra ever sleep with each other?" Jonathan asks.

I chuckle humorlessly and reply, "Oh, hell no. Erica couldn't stand anyone who was of lower class than her and if a woman was prettier, she had better watch her back."

"Then what makes you think we're Soul Mates?" Jaimie looks confused, which isn't really all that surprising seeing as until she saw me vamp out she didn't know that much about Vampires.

"The way the two of you honed in on each other the instant you met and how you can barely stand to not be touching even now." As if to prove my words, they move a step closer until their arms are touching. "Feel better now?" I ask when they both relax from the stiff way I'm sure they weren't even aware they were standing. They share a sheepish look and nod. "Thinking back on things, I see now that both Myra and Erica were more relaxed when they were both in the same room. As far as I know they never had any dealings with each other but Erica was definitely aware of Myra's presence; how could she not be aware of a woman living in her home? And of course Myra knew Erica, she was The McKinnon's sister after all so everyone knew her."

"So how do we know for sure if we are Soul Mates?" I can see Jonathan trying to figure out what this means exactly, almost as if he can't decide if he wants it to be true or not.

"Well, one of you will have to be Turned and then we'll know when you touch."

"I don't understand," Jaimie says, her brows lowered over her nose in confusion.

"This is why you should have let me tell you about Vampires." I wag a finger in her face and she just rolls her eyes at me. 

Before I can begin to answer her question, Jonathan picks up the tale. "When a Vampire touches his Soul Mate they both feel a tingle like if one of them had been rubbing socked feet along a carpet."

"That's very helpful." Jaimie nods her head in understanding.

"Especially if the Vampire hasn't ever met his Mate before and can't rely on recognizing their Mate's Soul in the eyes of their current Human form."

Jaimie, as always, has more questions. "Do Soul Mates ever find each other as Humans, marry and die without ever being Turned?"

"Oh, yes. It's rare, but it does happen. My parents were one of those pairs."

"How do you know?" she wonders.

It's actually one of the few fond memories I have of my parents. "I remember the way they looked at each other and how they were always touching. Most of the time the touches weren't even sexual, just gentle loving caresses."

"At least you know they'll find each other again." I know Jaimie is trying to make me feel better but my memories of my parents will always be tinged with sadness.

Before I have a chance to respond, Carter approaches. "Dean." _Fuck! He's pissed!_ I do my best to keep my eyes lowered because I've found that, just like with his glasses, seeing Carter pissed off turns me on like crazy.

"Carter." I step between Jaimie and Jonathan and over to where Carter's standing at the end of the ambulance.

Carter is not in a pleasant mood, which I've noticed tends to happen whenever one of his people gets shot. "You have a lot of paperwork to do. I suggest you get started on that. Now." He looks over my shoulders at where Jaimie and Jonathan are. "Jaimie will see that your friend gets home safely."

"Yes, Boss." I don't even turn back to look at Jaimie and Jonathan before walking over to my car, climbing inside and heading back to the loft. Trust Carter to put work before pleasure, and since I want this encounter to go as smoothly as possible then I don't plan on cutting any corners.

I actually write my entire report in detail. Well, not complete detail. I mean, I don't mention fucking Jonathan or seducing the neighbor woman but I gave minute details of everything else, like my conversation with Carter and Ty about using Jonathan for the op. I even went so far as to use some of the background info Jonathan set up for himself to explain why he was perfect for the role.

Once finished, I email Carter my report and print out a copy since he likes to have it on paper.

I place it in a folder on his desk and turn to leave, relishing the thought of going upstairs and crashing for the next seventy-two hours. I could use a little rest before starting the most awkward conversation of Carter's life. 

Before I even take two steps, I see Carter walking toward me. Except I don't see him as Carter, I see him as Adair. Complete with léine and long flowing hair with braids at his temples. I blink and give my head a sharp shake. 

When I look again, it's Carter Shaw that's standing before me with his brows lowered over his nose in a mixture of anger and frustration. "And just where the hell do you think you're going?"

With a sigh, I settle back on my heels and tuck my thumbs in my back pockets. "I thought I'd go home. Catch a few Z's." I shrug and point over my shoulder toward his desk with my head. "My report's in your email inbox and in the folder on your desk." I go to step around him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day."

He shifts until he's blocking my path and when I look again, the frustration's gone and he's beyond angry. Placing one hand in the center of my chest, he shoves a little, forcing me to give ground. "Damnit, Dean! What were you trying to do? Get yourself killed?" Carter in a full on protective rant is a sight to behold. His eyes sparkle, the color rides high on his cheeks and if he happens to be touching me, well, the Bond flares white hot; almost hot enough to burn.

"I was doin' my job!" I puff myself up and get right in his face, just like I used to do whenever Adair would question my actions. Only thing is that Carter, for all that he has Adair's soul, _isn't_ Adair and as such doesn't back down. Not one inch. This leaves us glaring at each other, noses almost touching. 

"You never gave the signal!"

"I had it under control until you walked in."

"I could see just how well you had everything in hand," he snaps sarcastically.

"And this is exactly why you had me wear a vest! When it became obvious that things were about to go south, I made a judgment call and was just about to take him down when you burst in and took my focus off him which gave him the opening he needed."

"So it's all on me? I don't think so."

"Fuck it, Carter! When the hell will you trust me to do my job properly?"

"Maybe about the same time you trust me with your secret?" His response pulls a snort of laughter out of me. If he only knew.

And we're back to staring each other down. Neither willing to give in.

I'm positive if I wasn't so attuned to him, I wouldn't have noticed the second he makes his decision. Between one of his heart beats and the next, his hands whip out and grab my face just before his lips crush mine. _Oh, thank God!_ Instinct takes over and I relax and let him take control, opening my mouth to his questing tongue. I moan deep in my throat at the promises he's making against my tongue with his. Before long, he's pulling back. A groan at the loss builds but before I can give voice to it, he spins me around so that I'm bent over his desk, my weight braced on my hands. 

God, is this really happening? Have I died and gone to Heaven? His hands fumble with my belt and fly but eventually he gets them undone and pushes my pants and boxers down to my knees. I can hear him undoing his own fly, and yet I still startle a bit when two spit wet fingers probe my hole. "God, you're already prepped?"

I can't _not_ answer him, my voice little more than a throaty groan of, "Yeah. Started prepping myself the day I met you."

"Oh, God," he moans, removing his fingers and slowly pressing inside. "Fuck!" he grunts when I clamp down on his length.

"I do believe that's what we're doin'." I push back to take more of him inside.

"Shut up, lad!" he orders in Gaelic. God, what a hell of a time for Adair to make an appearance.

I let my head hang down between my arms and relax even further, allowing him to fuck my brains out. He finds the proper angle to hit my sweet spot and nails it on every in stroke. Just when I gather the energy to reach under me, I feel his hand wrap around me and begin stroking me. He seems to know exactly how I like it, each stroke ending in a quick twist at the head before slowly running back down; his grip tighter on the up stroke, than the down. Much too soon, my orgasm races up my spine to slam into my skull, causing me to scream as I spill my load all over his desk and hand.

Carter runs his hands up my back under my shirt and around my chest, his left hand coming to rest over my heart. A couple more thrusts and he empties himself inside my guts before sagging a bit over my back. It takes a few minutes before he realizes that he can't feel my heart beating. 

Through the Bond, that our fucking has intensified, I feel his anger spike just seconds before he roughly pulls out. I slowly straighten, pulling my pants and boxers back up before turning to face him. My heart breaks at the stiff way he's standing with his back to me.

"Carter, I can explain," I begin, only to have him shut me down.

"Really, Dean? You can explain why you didn't tell me you're a vampire, something that I _know_ doesn't exist?" He spins to face me, buckling his belt, and I wish to God he had kept his back turned. The anguish – the betrayal – that is shining from his eyes hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.

"How can you say Vampires don't exist when you just felt for yourself that they – that _I_ – exist! Seriously, Carter. Why do you persist in ignoring the evidence that's right before you?"

"Vampires go against every law of nature I know. How can something that doesn't breathe walk around?"

"Can't say I know the answer to that one, but I know someone who does."

He tilts his head back, looking down his nose at me. Despite the posture, I don't feel that he's looking down on me like so many of the upper class did when I was a kid, more like he's not sure what to make of me. "This your big secret?"

"Part of it, yeah."

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "What's the other part?"

"Trust me when I say you don't want to know."

"No more lies or secrets, Dean." He steps back toward me, his eyes taking on the hard edge that warns I'd be wise to do as ordered.

_Oh, if he only knew!_ I chuckle mentally then remember that I can now tell him. With a shrug I lean back against the desk, crossing my arms over my chest. "Very well. The rest of it, the reason I come to work every day prepped and lubed, is that you're my Soul Mate."

He actually stops and blinks at me for a second. "Your what?"

"Soul Mate. The other half of my soul. We're destined to spend eternity together."

"Uh-huh. And how long have you known this?" I can see I'm losing him again.

Instead of answering, I step up to him and grab his hand. "Do you feel that?" I ask when the Bond flares bright in the back of my head.

His eyes narrow and I can see he's thinking about lying. "What is it?" he manages to surprise me when he actually admits to feeling it.

"It's our Bond. It's how a Vampire knows when they've met their Mate." I try and remember what Viggo told me all those years ago.

"Does the human usually feel it too?"

I give a one shouldered shrug. "Dunno. Why do you ask?"

"I feel it each time we touch. Have felt it since that first day."

God, he's known, however subconsciously, that we're meant to be and has kept it from me. The fact that he didn't know what it is notwithstanding, it just adds to more of the stress I've been feeling lately. "Why the fuck didn't you say something!?"

He just shrugs. "Didn't think it was important. Besides, most times it just felt like when someone who has built up excess static electricity touches you."

I don't even know what to say to that. Chewing on my lip, I lower my head and look up at him through my lashes. He stares right back. And we're now at an impasse. I know what I want to happen next but I'm not sure he's ready for it. Correction, I _know_ he's not ready for it.

He tilts his head to the side. "How about we take this somewhere a tad more private? Say, my place, since it's closer?"

I have to laugh at that. "Actually, my place is closer."

"That right?" He doesn't seem to believe me.

"Follow me," I say and walk to the elevator. Once we're both on, I close the doors and hit the up button.

"So that house I visit whenever we have things at your place…?"

"A decoy." The elevator comes to a stop on my floor with a lurch and I open the doors.

"Right." He steps around me and slowly prowls my living space.

Something deep inside unfurls at seeing my Mate where he belongs at long last. Maybe before the night is over we'll be a step closer to him being Turned. Not to mention the fact that he's now standing beside my bed and I can't stop picturing him buried balls deep in my ass.

I step up behind him and turn him so I can capture his lips in a heated kiss. Making promises of my own against his tongue. His hands find their way up under my shirt and I shiver as the Bond once again sizzles along my nerve endings. Carter pulls my shirt off over my head pulling a growl of protest from deep within me at having to give up my possession of his mouth. "Easy, lad," he purrs, Adair once again making an untimely appearance.

Sliding my hands up his chest, I push his jacket off his shoulders before beginning to unbutton his shirt. I attach my lips to the corner of his jaw, sucking lightly. Carter moans and flexes his fingers against my scalp.

"So, how often do you need to… um… feed?" Carter pulls back to ask.

With an irritated noise, I grab the open halves of his shirt to keep him from getting too far away. "Every couple of days. A week at the most."

"Huh," he huffs. "When was the last time you fed?" He trails the fingers of one hand along my collarbone.

"Yesterday." A shiver begins at my toes and works its way up my spine.

His lips droop and the heat in them intensifies. "So you don't need to feed right now?"

Is he trying to kill me? "No, I don't. Although I do usually feed once a day, which isn't always possible if we're in the middle of a case."

He growls softly. "You're not getting it, Dean. I want you to feed from me. Show me what I've been missing."

I step back out of his arms, shaking my head. "No."

Carter's eyes narrow, his eyebrows lowering over his nose. "Why not? You said it's only a matter of time before you turn me."

"It's not the same." I pace away from him. "The Bond is reinforced every time we touch but feeding from you would make it even stronger."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Reminding myself that he doesn't know these things, I turn to face him. "It can be. With how dangerous our jobs are, you could be taken from me at anytime and I've seen too many friends begin the Bonding process before Turning their Mate and then watched them descend into madness when the Mate died." I've seen it firsthand. Seen it happen to the last person I'd expected or even wanted to see again, in fact. But I also remember what happened to him when she died. God, the things he did when she took his sanity with her… it _still_ haunts me sometimes. And the small part of me that still can't think about that time without being horrified is just relieved in a way all Vampires understand, a sort of 'Glad that wasn't me.' I actually kinda feel sorry for the bastard, even though I'd never actually say it to his face.

"Then go ahead and turn me." He reaches for me again.

I step back. If I let him touch me now, my resolve will disappear and I'll give in to his demand. "No." I shake my head even harder than before.

"I can't believe you said 'no' again, Dean. C'mon, I know you want to." He leers at me and I can feel my will slipping.

"You're not ready. There are things you need to know first."

"But you'll be here to help me, right?"

I rub my hands over my scalp. "I don't get you, Carter. I mean, one minute you insist that Vampires – that I – don't exist and the next you're demanding I not only feed from you, but Turn you too." I can't seem to stay still and so pace in circles around the sleeping area of my apartment.

"How long have we known each other?" His question gives me pause. I stop and stare at him trying to figure out if he means in general or what.

Eventually I figure out he means in this life. "Three years, give or take."

He nods. "There were a lot of people who warned me to not tap you for my team. They said you were too much of a loose cannon; that you were a wild dog that tended to slip its leash way too often. I was told you were nothing but a major headache and that you would most likely get me and the rest of the team killed." He manages to sneak up on me. The warmth of his hand on my shoulder gives the heat of the Bond a run for its money. "From the moment I looked into your eyes I knew they were all just jealous. That you and I would be perfect together. I think that somewhere deep down I knew that we were meant to be together for eternity. I can't say I love you, Dean, because I don't. Not yet at any rate, but if what you're saying is true, and why wouldn't it be? then one day I will love you. So why not turn me now? Why make us wait, risking one or the other of us dying before we can bond?"

I jerk away from him, my eyes narrowed in anger. "Bullshit, Carter. I don't know what game you're playing but I do know this isn't you. Did people try to warn you against hiring me? Sure. Did you take one look at me and decide to give me a chance anyway? Absolutely. But knowing we're meant to be together before now? No way in fucking hell."

He grins at me. "Didn't buy that, huh?"

My eyes narrow; he thinks this is _funny_ now? "What made you think I would? Is this some kind of game for you? Because it's not a game for me. This is my life, Carter."

He has the grace to look chagrined. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm having a hard believing this whole soul mate thing. I can believe that you're a vampire because I have the evidence of there not being a heart beating in your chest." He steps closer again and wraps one hand around the back of my neck. "Think we could discuss this later? After maybe another round or two of wild monkey sex?"

"Wild monkey sex?" I choke on my laughter. Here's yet another bit of evidence that Carter isn't Adair. Sex with Adair was always pretty serious. Most encounters were so quick we barely had time to talk, before or after, much less joke around. Of course Adair was a very serious person. He didn't see humor in much. For all that Carter takes life seriously, he does find the humor in some things and can make me laugh quite easily. "I think we can do that."

Sliding my hands up his chest, I push his shirt off his shoulders then pull his undershirt off over his head before leaning in and capturing his lips in a spine tingling kiss while undoing his belt and fly.

His hands land on my hips and slowly begin to make their way up my torso. When his left one encounters the scar on the lower right of my abdomen, they pause and he pulls back to look down at it. "What happened here?"

I try to figure out how to explain that the scar he's currently fingering is the one I got when I died. Deciding that now's not the time, I grab his wrist and place his hand where I want it most. On my erection. "We can discuss that later," I purr, leaning forward to nibble on his Adam's apple.

After squeezing me a few times through the cloth covering my dick, he slips both hands around to the back and under the band of my underwear so he can grab my ass cheeks. With a groan, I being trailing kisses down his chest, stopping to tease his nipples and dip my tongue into his navel. When I get to his waistband, I dip my tongue under it, pulling a hiss from him. With a smirk, I kneel and, looking up at him from beneath my lashes while running my tongue seductively along my lower lip, pull his pants and underwear down to his knees. His erection springs free and I don't even think before I lean forward to bury my nose in his pubic hair, inhaling deeply. 

His places his hands on my head, not guiding, just resting there. Running the tip of my tongue up the vein on the underside of his dick, I suck the head into my mouth, dipping my tongue into the slit. His breath hitches in his throat and his fingers flex against my skull and I know if I had hair he'd be clutching it. "Dean," he growls when I begin teasing him with my teeth. A glance upwards has me deciding to stop with the teasing and just get on with what I'm on my knees for. 

Taking a breath I don't need, I slowly take his entire length down my throat. Once my nose is pressed against his quivering belly, I swallow. He stops breathing for a heartbeat. His fingers tighten each time I swallow until I'm afraid he'll squash my head like a melon. "I think I found one advantage to having a vampire for a lover," he pants.

After just a few minutes, he's pushing rather desperately on my head. "Dean! Stop! I'm gonna…" He shudders and moans when I pull off his cock with an obscenely wet slurp.

"That's kinda the point, Carter," I inform him, licking my lips like the cat that got the canary.

"Don't wanna come down your throat." He tugs on my shoulders until I'm standing.

He doesn't wanna come down my… If I still breathed I know I'd be panting right now at what those words mean. "Oh, yeah. I want you to come in my ass, too." I push him down on the bed so I can remove his shoes and pull his pants and underwear off. Once done, he scoots back on the bed until he's propped up on his elbows, legs splayed, in the middle.

I toe off my shoes and shove my pants and boxers down, I never did up the fly from earlier, then step out of them before crawling up the bed to lie on top of him. Both of us groan at the flash from the Bond when our skin touches. "God, Dean. How could I have denied myself this for all these years?" Good question. And one I have no answer for. 

I lick a stripe up his neck from his shoulder to his jaw. A small voice in the back of my head tells me to go ahead and bite him, feed from him. _What can it hurt?_ my subconscious asks. _He's your Mate. Go on! Ya know ya wanna._

Suppressing a growl, I tell it to shut the fuck up and settle for just nibbling my way back down and along his collarbone, leaving a tiny bruise in the dip where the two halves meet. 

Carter doesn’t just lie there and let me learn his body. His hands seem to be everywhere at once. Stroking down from my shoulders to my ass and back up. One hand eventually settles on the back of my head and the other on my flank.

We rub against each other until I feel my orgasm building. Pulling back from where he's sucking on my tongue, I shift until I'm sitting astride him. Wrapping my hand around his dick, I lean up, getting ready to impale myself. "No," he says, grabbing my wrist.

"What?" I blink down at him. How dare he decide he doesn't want this now?

"I want you in me."

"Are you sure?" I've dreamed of hearing those words from him for years. Adair certainly never would have let me top him.

When he nods, I reach under the pillow and pull out a bottle of Astroglide. Smearing some on my fingers, I kneel between his legs and just about swallow my tongue when he grabs his thighs to pull them back for me. "God, Carter! You ever done this before?" I don't want to know the answer, and yet I _need_ to know.

Carter whines low in his throat when I begin to rub one finger against his exposed hole. "It's been a while, but yeah, I've done this before," he manages to grunt out.

The surge of jealousy that his answer causes surprises me. I've never been the jealous type. Adair and I both had other lovers and it didn't bother me. I guess I was hoping I'd get to be Carter's first like Adair was mine.

Slowly I press inside and begin to twist my finger, making sure to spread the lube all over. After about a minute, I add more lube and a second finger. Carter shudders and sighs, clamping down on my fingers. With a smirk, I dribble more lube down his crack, then add a third finger. He screams my name when I brush my fingers over his prostate. God, Carter screaming my name… as if my dick wasn't already hard enough to be painful.

Deciding I've tortured him long enough, I squirt some lube onto my cock and slowly enter him while keeping my fingers where they are. His eyes roll back in his head and it's obvious he's having difficulty catching his breath.

Once I'm fully seated, I remove my fingers and stretch out fully on top of him, my arms under his shoulders, my hands fisted in his hair. Tremors wrack both our frames. My skin burns everywhere that we're touching. I slowly begin to move, staring into his eyes the whole time. His pupils are blown so wide with passion there's only a thin ring of crystal blue left. 

"Let me see your fangs," he whispers, one hand coming up to cup the back of my head.

Bracing myself on my fists over him, I open my mouth and extend my fangs. He pulls my upper lip up so he can see my gums. He runs one finger down one of my fangs, stopping just shy of the tip. His eyes meet mine and he holds my gaze as he slowly pulls my head down until he can run his tongue along my gums and down my fangs. Hooking his ankles beneath my ass, he urges me to start moving while sealing his mouth to mine and going on a search for my tonsils.

We fight for dominance of the kiss for several minutes, until he has to pull back to breathe. He takes this opportunity to guide my head toward his neck. He's tossed his head back, baring his throat. 

Just inches from doing as he wants, I remember my objections and with a hiss, I pull back to crouch at the foot of the bed. Carter growls his protest and sits up to reach for me. I snarl a warning and he backs off.

"Dean?" he calls softly, settling on his knees at the head of the bed.

We stare at each other for several of his heartbeats. I shake my head to clear the rest of the fogginess that fucking my Mate left me with. "I'm not so far gone that you can get my instincts to do what you want, Carter."

"I'm sorry." And he sounds like he genuinely is sorry for what he tried to do.

"Not sorry enough," I mutter, stumbling off the bed and around it to where my clothes lay in an untidy heap. Snapping up my jeans, I yank them on followed by my shirt. Just my luck: one minute he's in denial about Vampires, and the next minute it turns out he's not only been thinking about hopping into bed with me this entire time but he's also turning out to have a Vampire _fetish_? Attention, Fate, I'm having enough problems controlling myself here!

"Where the fuck are you going?" Carter yells when I pick up my shoes on my way out of the room.

"Away from here before I do something we'll both regret," I call over my shoulder.

Before he can say anything, I slam out the stairwell door and stomp down to the loft while doing up my fly and buckling my belt, and over to Carter's desk, intent on raiding the stash in his bottom drawer.

I'm almost there when a scent registers. "Jaimie," I growl when I finally notice her standing at Carter's desk.

A part of me sits up when I see that she's wearing a short skirt and a pair of heels. 

"Dean," she begins but I don't let her finish. 

Stepping up to her, I grab her face with both hands and shove my tongue into her mouth. I don't wanna hear whatever it is she might have to say. Slipping my hands down her body, I hook them under her thighs and lift her high enough for her to wrap her legs around my waist. I then stalk over to the wall where I slam her back against it. "I love it when you wear a skirt." My voice is a deep rumble that causes her to shiver.

I get a couple of fingers under the elastic around the leg opening of her panties and pull it aside while undoing my fly with the other hand. Tugging my erection out of my pants, I line up with her entrance and slam home pulling a gasp of surprise from her. 

When she breaks the kiss in order to breathe, I tilt my head and sink my fangs deep into her neck, shuddering as the metallic taste of her blood rushes over my tongue. 

Slipping one hand up under her shirt, I tug the cup of her bra down and fondle her breast, applying the amount of pressure that she likes. Rolling her nipple between my fingers, I squeeze a tad harder than usual. She seems to enjoy it, throwing her head back as much as she can and tightening her pussy muscles around my cock. We both climax at the same time. I pull my fangs from her vein and lick the wound closed.

She strokes the back of my head soothingly. "I guess you still haven't told Carter?"

"Oh, no. He told Carter about an hour ago." Carter's voice booms through the empty space. 

Jaimie lets out a tiny little 'meep' and unwinds her legs from my waist. I slowly lower her, tilting my head the other direction to look over my shoulder at where Carter is standing stiffly, looking for all the world like the Highland Scot he once was. Only things missing are his léine, a tartan and some war paint. I'm vaguely aware of Jaimie putting her clothes to rights.

"Leave!" Carter barks when it becomes apparent that Jaimie isn't going to take the hint and go. "Get out!" he orders again when she continues to hesitate. 

She looks at me and I give a tiny nod telling her it'll be fine. She sails from the room, nose firmly in the air. She's gonna be hell to deal with for the next several days.

"Do you not know how it feels to walk in here and see you with your prick shoved up some tramp's twat, Dean?" he demands in Gaelic.

_Of course_. I turn to face my irate Mate. "Hello, Adair," I respond, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over my chest.

"Don't you be helloing me, lad," he snaps. "Have ya last your mind? Don't ye know what'll happen if'n The McKinnon finds out? Bedding a wench where the Lady Erica can see ye. Ye must be daft."

"Not quite," I reply softly. I know I fucked up but I can't seem to find the energy to care at this moment.

"What does that mean?"

"It means –" I trail off at the confused look that crosses his face.

Adair is gone again, and now in front of me is Carter, looking equal points puzzled and pissed. "Dean? What the hell just happened?"

Sighing deeply, I straighten back up, put my own clothes to rights and walk over to where Carter's still standing, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "You just experienced one of your past lives breaking through."

He looks up at me like I've lost my mind. "I don't understand."

I sigh deeply, settle all my weight on one foot and link my hands behind my neck. "It's complicated."

"So simplify it for me." I haven't seen him this pissed since Ty questioned him about arresting Frye.

"It's not a simple thing to do." It's starting to look like he might have a heart attack. "Seriously Carter. I'm not trying to be difficult."

"I said no more lies or secrets, Dean!" We're standing nose to nose and it takes everything within me to not grab him, throw him to the floor and fuck him until neither of us can walk.

"You aren't ready to hear my whole truth, yet, Carter!" 

"How the hell do you know I'm not ready?" If his current tone is any indication, we won't be going back upstairs to finish what we started earlier.

"Because _I'm_ not ready and it's _my truth_!" I pace away, my hands stacked on top of each other on top of my head, fighting back my own anger and frustration.

I have never in all my years on this planet been this much at a loss for how to proceed. There isn't one person in my life who knows my entire story. Hell, _I_ don't even know my entire story because I don't even remember being Turned. But even if I did, I don't think I'd tell Carter about it. Not now at any rate. Who wants to know that someone they trust to watch their six was Turned Without Consent so soon after finding out that that person isn't even Human?

In Vampire society, being Turned Without Consent is on par with a Human being raped. It holds the same stigma. And other Vampires look down on you because if you couldn't protect yourself enough to keep from being Turned then how can you possibly protect your Vampire family? 

I always thought that was unfair for Vampires with stories like mine. I may not remember being Turned but I do know that the creature that Turned me did so just moments before I would have died of blood loss.

Carter steps into my path, forcing me to stop my pacing. Taking my face in his hands, he looks me in the eye. "Is this something you think you'll be able to tell me in time?"

I close my eyes. "Eventually. I think I can."

"Then we don't need to worry about this now." He pulls me in and places a chaste kiss on my lips. "For now, I want you to go feed and then come see me upstairs."

I blink at him. "You want me to go feed?"

"You need to, don't you?" I give a small shrug. "When was the last time you fed?"

I have to actually stop and think about it. "Yesterday."

"Then go. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?" I step back out of his grip and begin walking toward the door.

"Don't fuck whoever you feed from."

Turning to look at him over my shoulder, the look on his face has me walking back to where he's standing. Taking his face in my hands, I lick my way into his mouth, telling him without words that he doesn't have to ever worry about that.

He pulls back so he can breathe, places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me gently in the direction of the door. "Go. Now. Before I change my mind."

With one last kiss to his forehead, I walk out of the loft and climb into my truck.

I sit there for a few minutes with the engine idling, trying to decide exactly which local club I want to go to because I definitely don't have the time to drive all the way to San Francisco. Tapping a beat against the steering wheel, I decide to visit a club I haven't been to in quite some time.

Decision made, I exit the parking garage and head toward the club about half an hour's drive away.

When I arrive at the club, I park and enter, by-passing the main room in favor of the back hallway where you can hire a Donor for however long you require them.

On both sides of the hall are little booths similar to those found in a peep show. Each room is lit by a different color light: red for Donors who have been fed from recently, yellow for those who have only been used as snacks and green for those who can provide a full feeding.

It's still early enough in the evening that most rooms are green. As I walk down the hall, the Donors in the rooms try to catch my attention. Most of them are extremely attractive but I'm looking for someone in particular. Of course it's been so long since I've been here that she may not work here anymore.

In the last room on the right, I find the person I'm looking for.

A pretty girl dressed in what she herself calls happy Goth, is sitting in a chair with her feet propped on the wall and reading _The Little Prince_ in the original French. I tap on the glass of her window with one knuckle and she jumps before flashing me a pretty smile. She bounces to her feet and throws the door open before launching herself into my arms.

"Dean!" she squeals, hugging my neck as tight as she can.

I chuckle and return the hug. "How ya doing, Tracy?"

"I was beginning to think I wasn't ever going to see you again!" She pulls back to smack me on the arm.

"Sorry about that. Life's been keeping me really busy."

"Mmhm." I can see she doesn't believe me. "What's been going on?"

"Well, I found my Mate." 

Her eyes widen and she hugs me tight again. "Oh, Dean! I'm so happy for you!"

"I haven't Turned him yet." She leans away from me to narrow her eyes on my face. "Not that I don't want to but I just _today_ told him about me."

"That right?" I can't identify the tone of her voice but I know it can't be good.

I roll my eyes. "Sue me. After what I've been through, I think I have the right to be hesitant to tell people the truth."

Tracy actually looks chagrined. "I'll give you that. So, what's he like?" She tucks her hands under her chin and acts like she's about to settle in for the gabfest of the century.

I tug on one of her ponytails. "I don't really have time to talk about him right now."

"Is he waiting for you?"

"He is. And before you ask, I'm not going to feed from him until he's ready to Turn."

Her lips thin and she harrumphs. "Whatever. So what can I do for you tonight?"

"He sent me out for a meal. You up for one?" She glances over her shoulder at the green light coloring the booth she's standing in. "Right. Like I said, it's been a busy day."

She nods her head, reaches behind her to shut off the light, takes my hand and leads me to one of the rooms around the corner.

I let her pull me inside and close the door before I tell her what Carter asked of me.

Clearing my throat, I scratch the back of my head and do my best to ignore the large bed that's taking up most of the room. "Um, there's something I have to tell you." I walk away a bit, then turn to face her. Squaring my shoulders, I take a breath and just tell her, "Carter has asked me to not fuck my Donors anymore."

A soft smile graces her face. "I think it's sweet that you're going to honor him by not sleeping around anymore." I roll my eyes. "I can certainly deal with just feeding you. Although I will miss that dick of yours," she says with a wistful sigh.

"And I'll miss fucking my Donor but I respect Carter too much to not do as he asks. I won't say it'll be easy for me, because you know it won't be, but I'm willing to do this because my Mate has asked it of me."

"And I totally respect that." She pouts at me. "Does this mean I'm not allowed to get any pleasure out of your feeding?"

Chuckling softly, I pull a chair out to the middle of the room. "Absolutely not. He asked me to not fuck my Donor but didn't say anything about giving them pleasure."

She bounces on her toes and claps her hands. "Yeah!" She goes so quickly from sweet and innocent to sultry, licking her bottom lip and eyeing me through her lashes, I almost get whiplash. "So what are we gonna do?"

I beckon her with a crook of my finger. "C'mere and find out."

She approaches where I'm sitting, swinging her hips enticingly. "Tracy, stop it!" I growl. She complies with a tiny sigh and stops in front of my chair, her head lowered demurely and her hands clasped in front of her. Reaching out, I wrap my hands around her hips and guide her to straddle my lap.

She leans down and seals her mouth to mine, her tongue sweeping inside to tangle with mine. Running both hands up her thighs and under her tiny little skirt, I slip my fingers under the elastic of her panties until I can cup her ass cheeks in both palms. I give each globe a squeeze before trailing the fingers of my right hand along the crease where her leg meets her body until I can slip two fingers into her.

With a breathy moan, she breaks the kiss, throws her head back and guides my mouth to her neck. I kiss the skin of her throat before placing my mouth over the spot where I can see the blood pumping from her heart up to her brain through her carotid artery. Just as I extend my fangs in preparation of biting her, she wiggles a little, trying to get my fingers in deeper.

Knowing this will be one of the last times I'll be with her, I push them in as far as I can and rub my thumb over her clit. Her breath catches in her throat on a tiny gasp and she gives a barely there shudder.

Pushing my fangs through her beautiful skin, I suck greedily at the sweet blood that comes seeping out. Her blood has a spicy after-taste, telling me she had her favorite Indian food recently.

Curling my fingers, I rub against her G-spot causing her back to arch sharply. I place my left hand on the back of her head to keep her more or less in place. 

When I rub that spot again, she groans and clutches at my scalp. Knowing she's close to the edge, I swirl my thumb over her clit while running my fingers lightly in a circle on her G-spot. It does the trick and just as I pull my fangs from her neck, her body trembles with the force of her orgasm.

She collapses against my chest and tucks her head under my chin. I continue gently stroking her until she's had enough and pulls my hand up where we can each lick my fingers clean, out tongues touching often. Once my fingers are clean, we nibble on each other's lips for several minutes.

Eventually she sighs sadly and begins to get off my lap. "You shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

I echo her sigh and with a pat to her pretty butt, help her stand up. "I suppose I shouldn't. Especially since we've been fighting our attraction for three years."

She smacks me on the arm. "What have I told you about denying your attraction to someone, especially when that someone is your Soul Mate?"

I chuckle and rub at the spot where she hit me. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were my mother."

"Luckily for you I'm not." With her nose firmly in the air, she turns with a flounce and a huff, leading the way back to her booth.

Once there, she flips on the red light and leans one shoulder against the door jam. She bites her lip and gives me a look that at any other time would have me spinning her toward the wall so I can lift her skirt and fuck her brains out.

"Stop that, now." I tap the end of her nose with my finger. She pouts at me. "You're not making this easy for me."

She actually looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, Dean." She twirls the hair of one ponytail around her finger. "Carter's a lucky guy."

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out some cash and peel off several bills, then hand them to her. She counts them and raises startled eyes to mine. "I can't possibly. It's too much." She tries to give the money back.

I curl her fingers around the bills and pat her hand. "Just take it. You're red lighted for the next six weeks."

She smiles at the reminder. "I may not be able to feed a Vampire for six weeks but there are some who pay just for sex, ya know."

The cop in me doesn't like knowing about that but the law states that if the person paying for sex, or being paid for sex, is a Vampire, it's not illegal. Well, as long as the transaction takes place inside of a legal Vampire club. 

"Surely there's something else you can do."

"What, now that you won't be coming to visit me anymore?" Her eyes sparkle and I have a suspicion she's fighting back tears despite her brave tone. "You had better bring him by so I can meet him."

"Yes, ma'am." I place a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I better go."

"Yes. Don't leave that man waiting any longer."

"Bye, Tracy," I whisper, kissing her one last time.

"Bye, Dean," she replies, just as softly.

As I turn away, I catch sight of a tear rolling slowly down her cheek. It's always a gamble, feeding regularly from the same Donor, because they sometimes develop deeper feelings than they should. Over the centuries I've had some women, and a few men, claim to be in love with me and it's never easy when I have to move on and ultimately break their heart. 

I luck out on the return drive and hit every single green light and very little traffic.

When I arrive at the loft, I take the stairs two at a time, hitting the door to my apartment at a jog. As I cross the space, I begin undressing so that when I step around the glass brick wall into the bedroom area, I'm naked and ready to just slide into the bed.

My first glimpse of the bed is enough to make me smile. Carter is sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the bed, naked as the day he was born. The rhythm of his breathing tells me he's not asleep so I climb up onto the bed and between his spread legs.

"Hello," he murmurs, raising his hips to give me better access.

"Mm," I hum, placing biting little kisses across his shoulders. "Do I need to prep you?"

"No." He shivers when I take his right ear lobe between my teeth and bite down sharply.

"Good. I don't think I can wait long enough for that." Grabbing his ass cheeks in my hands, I spread the globes and press inside until I'm balls deep. I pause for a moment to give him a chance to become accustomed to the intrusion. Then I pull back slightly and press in, giving a tiny wiggle when I bottom out.

He grabs a pillow and stuffs it under his hips which gives me even greater access and changes the angle enough that I nail his prostate without even trying. Carter gasps and grabs fistfuls of the sheets, spreading his legs even further telling me without words that his body is mine to use as I wish.

I take him up on his offer. Pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in with enough force to having him grunting each time my hips smack against his ass. Soon the room is full of the sounds of his panting and our flesh hitting.

He's so far gone, that it doesn't take long before he's tumbling over the edge with a scream that could be my name. His muscles clamping down on me is enough to have me following him into bliss. 

I pull out as gently as I can and roll over to lie at his side. Turning my head, I laugh out loud when I see that he's already sound asleep. "Just like Adair. Unconscious within seconds of climaxing." With an open mouth kiss to his right shoulder, I snuggle down, close my eyes and follow him into slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

Now that Carter knows, we have yet to be able to be alone without fucking each other's brains out. And today's been no different.

We've had an unprecedented ten days without a case and Carter and I decided to take the time to hole up in my apartment and get to know even more about each other. Of course this included hours of wild sex on just about every surface.

And now we're sitting in the living area on separate chairs, of course, because if we're within reach, well, let's just say we've had to learn how to control ourselves when around others. Since we just finished fucking, and will most likely do so again soon, we both only pulled on our jeans not even bothering to do up the fly.

I'm sprawled in one chair, clutching a goblet of blood poured from my private stash and Carter is relaxing on the couch opposite, sipping on a beer.

"I guess now's as good a time as any for you to tell me what I need to know," he says, breaking the silence that has reigned for the past several minutes. It’s been a nice, comfortable post-coital silence and I almost hate to break it with anything except more of his moans, but he’s right.

With a sigh, I settle deeper into my chair. "You want to ask questions, or shall I just start telling what I know?"

"I'm not sure exactly what to ask, so I guess just tell me what you know."

I nod. "Fair enough." To give myself a moment to gather my thoughts, I raise the goblet to my mouth and drain it. "Until recently, no one knew where Vampires came from. John's Mate found an entry in the database of the city where they live that tells how Vampires came to be. The Ancient scientists were looking for a way to defeat a great enemy. Only it backfired and the subjects died, but they weren’t really dead. They became Vampires; the only species that is immune to a Wraith feeding, which is rather ironic seeing as how a Wraith is a form of Vampire; they feed off the life energy of their prey.

"There are rumors of a Vampire who has been around since the very beginning, one of the original test subjects. He's known only as The Ancient One and he has no ties with any of the Clans.

"For a while, chaos reigned. Then someone, there are those who say it was The Ancient One, decided that there should be a ruling council. The Council is made up of several ancient Vampires who are in control of the rules that govern all Vampires. They're also in charge of punishing the most severe crimes; the ones that a Clan Leader can't, or won't, lay down a sentence for. These are usually crimes against other Vampires and the very serious crime of killing a Human while feeding.

"The Council is also in charge of assigning Clan Leaders. Or rather, they decide if a Vampire should be allowed to form his own clan and where that should be. Right now there is not anywhere on Earth that doesn't already have a clan. I've heard that they're talking about letting John form a clan where he serves.

"At some point after the birth of Jesus of Nazareth and the rise of Christianity, being a Vampire became illegal and it was punishable by death. There is only one surefire way to kill a Vampire and that's to remove his head. This can be achieved in several different ways, but the most common is by cutting it off with a broad sword. Once I've Turned you, you'll have to learn how to use one to kill and defend yourself.

"I would prefer to be the one to do this, but have a feeling Nick may want Ardeth to. Ardeth is the leader of the Medjai Clan in the Middle East and The Council's 'trainer,' meaning he's the one that all the Clans send their new Vampires to for training, especially if their Sire isn't as skilled as they should be. You'll most likely meet him in any case. Ardeth may not be my Sire, or even the one I claim as my Sire, but he has been there for me a lot over the past thousand years.

"There are rules for everything about being a Vampire. For the most part the rules are followed by all but occasionally you'll come across one or two that think they're above all the rules. The rules you need to be most concerned with are the ones that govern feeding and what to do when meeting an older vamp on the street. 

"Feeding is rather straightforward; make sure your donor is over eighteen. I'll teach you how to feed without your donor even being aware of it. We developed this skill as a means of survival because while there are more Humans than Vampires, one Human can only be feed from once every two months and each Vampire should feed every day. The age limit on a donor is absolute and is there to protect the donor. In fact, most of our rules are to protect Humans. You will come across Vampires who drink the blood of children from time to time, usually taken from a blood bank where the parents have stored their child's cord, because it is reported to be much sweeter and stronger than that of an adult. No one's really sure why, and trust me when I say that Sylum's scientists have been trying to figure it out.

"When you meet an older Vampire, you are to defer to them. Do not speak until they acknowledge you. Unless they're one of the ones that feel that everyone younger than them is not worth their time, they will greet you once within speaking distance. Do not offer your hand. If they want to shake hands, they will offer theirs first." I get up and take Carter's empty beer bottle and my empty goblet into the kitchen. Grabbing two bottles from the fridge, I remove the tops and return to the living room where I hand one to Carter before settling again in my chair with the other.

Carter takes a long pull of his beer, eyeing me the whole time. "So what happens when a Human is Turned?"

"I can't tell you what physically happens to the body but I can tell you the process. First, I'll have to drain you of all your blood which means you'll die. Once that's happened, I'll have you drink from me. Over the next several minutes, my Vampire DNA will begin overwriting your Human DNA. Again, I can't tell you what happens exactly, but Sylum's doctor, Janet Fraiser, can. I've had her on stand-by for some time now. If you want I can call her and have her come explain what I can't."

"Maybe later." Carter drains his beer and slumps further down on the couch, spreading his legs in a very distracting way. "Tell me more about the Bond."

"The Bond makes the two halves of each soul, one. We won't be able to hear each other's thoughts but we will be able to feel what the other is feeling. If I'm hurt, you'll know. If you're angry, I'll know. The closer we are to each other, the stronger the Bond. When we're feeding from each other the Bond is at its strongest."

"What happens when a Vampire dies?"

"They turn to dust and if they're Bonded, their Mate dies too."

"Then isn't it better to remain unBonded?"

"No. The longer a Vampire goes unBonded the weaker they become. There are two reasons I won't feed from you yet. I've told you about one of them; that if I feed and you die, I'll go insane. But the other reason is that feeding from you will start our Bond."

"I thought you said that touching started the Bond?" he interrupts.

"It does, and it doesn't." I hold up a hand when he opens his mouth to interrupt me again. "The sizzle we feel when we touch is more so that a Vampire who has never met their Mate before will know when they do finally meet them. I've heard that if both Mates are Human, they don't feel the sizzle and I guess it's true because I don't remember feeling it with Adair. We work so well together because I can sense you in a way that's similar to how it'll be once we Bond."

"Tell me about your Turning."

"No." My voice takes on a hard note that would have had Adair backing down.

"Why not?" I'm reminded that Carter is not Adair. While Adair was conditioned to follow my orders, Carter is used to being in charge and expecting me to jump to each time he says.

"Because it has no bearing on us and your Turning." I find I can't sit still anymore and so jump up and begin to pace my apartment.

"Okay, Dean. You'll tell me when you're ready, right?" Like Adair, Carter has the ability to calm me with just a few words.

"Maybe. I've never told anyone about my Turning." 

"Who's your Sire?" Now what makes him think I'll tell him that if I won't tell him about my Turning?

"Carter…" I growl low in my throat.

"Stop it, Dean," he commands, grabbing my arm when I pass in front of the couch. "Sit and talk to me." The Bond flares bright hot behind my eyes and we both hiss as it sizzles along our nerve endings. "You said that Ardeth isn't the one you claim is your Sire and I'm guessing that means either you don't know your Sire or he didn't stick around after Turning you or both. So tell me, who do you consider your Sire?" I know he wants me to settle on the couch next to him but if I do, we won't be finishing this conversation any time soon, so I return to my chair, ignoring the noise of protest he makes.

I blow out a big breath. "After I was Turned, I woke up and found a man and a woman kneeling over me. I thought they had been the ones to… do… whatever it was that left me unconscious. They managed to calm me down and explained that I'd been Turned, then they introduced themselves; Guinevere and Arthur. They also explained that when asked, I would one day claim them as my Sire."

"It's not possible to have two Sires, is it?"

"No, it's not. I usually alternate between them, depending on who I'm talking to."

"So, Guinevere and Arthur. As in the Queen and King of Camelot?"

I nod. "Want another?" I point at his empty beer bottle. Instead of answering, he just holds it out to me. "Yep," I answer, entering the kitchen to grab him another beer and make myself some more cloned blood. "One and the same. You'll soon learn that most myths and legends have a basis in reality. In fact Arthur and Guinevere are the Leaders of Camelot Clan which rules over Great Britain, which, as I'm sure you know, is Ireland, Scotland and England." I hand him his beer and retake my seat.

"So tell me about the Clan you belong to." He takes a sip of his beer and stretches his arms along the back of the couch giving me a lovely view of his muscular chest and abdomen.

"I don't belong to a Clan. I have ties with all the ones that are friendly with Sylum, which is the Clan that rules the US. My closest ties are with Camelot because of Guinevere and Arthur. But since I live in the US, I've had to align myself with Sylum and its Leader Nick Stokes.

"Nick was born Nico Valerius Meridius in 399 AD in Rome. He was born to a slave woman and despite being the son of her owner, he was a slave until his owner/father died and his new owner allowed him to fight for his freedom in the Coliseum. 

"After that, he quickly rose through the ranks to become one of the youngest generals in the history of the Roman Empire. Then in 432 he was betrayed by one of his men and crucified. Just as he was near death, Shepsit Hemet Amun-Ra found him and Turned him."

"Wait, Shepsit Hemet Amun-Ra as in from _The Mummy Returns_?"

The look on his face pulls a chuckle from me. "I told you, just about everything you know has a basis in reality. _The Mummy_ movies are real, Dracula is real and so is Blade."

"Ya know, there's something I've been wanting the answer to but have yet to find the courage to ask."

"What's that?" I take a sip from the goblet and watch him wince almost as if he can taste just how nasty it truly is.

"How is it you can walk in the sun?"

"I suppose I should have told you the truth about all the Vampire myths before now. Once it became illegal for us to exist, The Council developed myths and legends to spread amongst the Humans so that we can live in as much peace as possible.

"We can walk in the sun. We can enter a church. Holy water just makes us wet. Crosses don't harm us, neither does silver; although if a Vampire is shot by a silver bullet, it burns a bit more than a regular one. We can eat garlic, and so can those we feed from, although most don't because we can't sweat it out like a Human and it tends to make our breath stink something fierce."

Carter nods, as though he’s crossed one item off his list and is moving to the next one. "I know you said that you can only be killed if your head is removed from your body but what happens if someone shoves a wooden stake through your heart?"

I shrug. "It'll hurt and I'll drop into a healing trance. Once my body has healed itself, I'll wake up and require several pints of blood."

"Good to know. So back to Nick…"

"Back to Nick. Shepsit Hemet Amun-Ra introduced him to Ardeth Bay. Together the two of them trained Nick in the art of being a Vampire. 

"Over time Nick began looking for the souls of his loved ones. He found his mother, his children, his wife and his Soul Mate.

"Nick has met his Soul Mate twice since he became a Vampire. The first time was in 1600. His name at the time was Warren Mills. He was a blacksmith in a small English village. In 1603, Warren convinced Nick to feed from him just before leaving on some errand for Ardeth. While Nick was gone, Warren was found guilty of associating with Vampires and sentenced to death by burning.

"Nick and the small group of followers he had at the time, returned just in time to watch Warren die at the stake. Those present say that Nick went ballistic and destroyed the whole village, killing every living thing, even the children and animals.

"I was with Ardeth so I only have the stories of those that saw what happened. Timothy O'Malley, now known as Timothy 'Speed' Speedle, and Anthony Jenson, now known as Anthony DiNozzo, took Nick to Camelot and basically nursed him back to health. 

"When they left in 1670, Arthur asked me to go to keep an eye on Nick. He was afraid that he was pretending to be better and that Tim and Tony didn't have it in them to say no to their Sire.

"John had been with me at Ardeth's when the request came so he accompanied me to England. John and I are more alike than either of cares to admit and so it was nice having someone who wasn't totally on Nick's side to talk to.

"Anyway, after about three years, it became obvious that Nick was no longer insane, or at least wasn't as insane as he had once been. Neither Tim, nor Tony, nor Nick would say how they managed to bring him back and as far as I know, it hasn't been done before or since.

"John and Nick had a falling out after John watched his Mate die in the same manner as Warren and so he left Nick's company and I went with him. After we settled Joseph's family in America, John stayed for a while and I returned to Ardeth. 

"In 1700 Nick sent word that he'd bought a merchant ship and wanted to know if I would be interested in sailing as one of his crew. When I left Scotland I discovered that I really do enjoy being at sea, so I accepted.

"In 1723, his ship was boarded by a pirate named Warrick Calhoun. During their fight, Nick accidentally touched him and discovered they were Mates. This sparked a flashback of sorts of Nick's insanity from when Warren died. Because of this, Nick Turned Warrick Without Consent and Force Bonded him almost a year later.

"This caused a lot of tension between them; tension that hasn't totally gone away. And this, kids, is our cautionary tale against Turning before the Human is totally ready." I tip my head down and give him my best Commander glare.

He squirms nervously in his seat. "Okay. I get it now, Dean. I'll stop trying to get you to Turn me before I'm ready."

"Good." I drain the last of the blood in my goblet and stretch my legs out in front of me and cross my ankles. "In 1718, Nick had helped found the city of New Orleans. Around this time The Council began talking about letting him start his own Clan.

"In 1754 he finally agreed and settled in New Orleans for several reasons. The main one was because he helped found it and so felt like it was his city. Another reason is that several of his clan members at that time served with him when he was a Musketeer."

"As in Dumas' book _The Three Musketeers_?" Carter gapes at me.

I shake my head and laugh. "Seriously, Carter. Do we need to suspend this conversation until you're more awake?"

"No. No, please continue." He waves one hand imperially.

"The Musketeers actually existed, just much earlier in history than Dumas said in his book. And before you ask, the book is based on Nick, John, Tim and Tony." I tuck my hands behind my head and leer at my Mate. "Have you learned enough or do you have any more questions for me?"

"I think you've answered enough for today," he says, getting up and all but slithering onto my lap. As soon as our skin touches, the Bond flares bright. He cups one hand behind my head and leans in to nibble on my lips. "Tha gaol agam ort, Dean," Carter whispers. Ever since I told him he was a Scot in his first life, he made it a point to learn Gaelic and now has the habit of only speaking it during sex which turns me on to no end.

I grab his head and shove my tongue down his throat. When I feel he might need air, I push him back just far enough so we can continue to press nibbling little kisses on each other's lips. "Tha gaol agam ort, Carter." I've yet to say it in English but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Fuck me, Dean. Fuck me like you always wanted to fuck Adair."

I press our foreheads together and desperately grab for the reins of my self-control. He may have given me permission to fuck him the way I've always wanted, but I'm much stronger now than I was then and I don't want to hurt him. But I can make love to him the way I always wanted and that's what I decide to do. 

Pushing him gently from my lap, I herd him into the bedroom where I strip him naked and spend the rest of the night slowly worshipping every square inch of his body.


	6. Chapter 6

The battle has been in full swing for about an hour, having started just before dawn. The sun has yet to burn off the morning mist and as such visibility is rather limited. Even so, I had eyes on Dean just a few minutes ago. He was fighting two of Kinsey's best warriors to my right when I was attacked by two others. By the time I got turned back around, Dean was nowhere to be seen.

"Dean!" I bellow his name, swinging my sword in a wide arc, continuing to fight off every man who approaches. "Dean!" The mist seems to be getting thicker, preventing me from seeing more than a few steps in front of me.

"Adair!" Dean's voice sounds like it's coming from my left. I turn in that direction and the mist acts like it's going to part and let me see him, but then it thickens again and my brief glimpse of Dean is gone.

"Dean!" I use the momentum of my fighting to carry me across the field in the direction I last saw Dean in.

"Adair!" Now Dean sounds like he's to my right again. Have I turned in a circle?

During a momentary lull in attackers, I turn and seek out Dean's familiar form, the mist lifting enough for me to see it just a few feet away. "Dean!" He jerks his head in my direction, telling me he heard me but can't be distracted from the warrior he's battling.

With a smile, I stand and spend a few minutes engaging in my third favorite activity; watching Dean fighting. A noise from behind me pulls my attention away from my former lover, and I turn in time to be stabbed through the chest with a sword carried by a lad of no more than sixteen summers. He manages to miss my heart, but I can feel the tip of the sword exit my back. I know I'll be dead soon.

The lad seems as surprised as me that he managed to do what his elders have failed to do. He pulls his sword from my body and stands there, totally stunned by his first kill. 

I fall slowly to my knees, my only thought the hope that Dean won't see me die. Blood drips out of my mouth and down my chin. I make eye contact with the lad and he whispers, "I'm sorry" before turning and running from the field.

"Adair!" Dean's voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in some time but I know that's wrong because he was just hollering for me mere minutes ago.

The world begins to spin, my vision narrowing to a point on the ground in front of me with the edges going black. 

It's getting difficult to breathe. The world is dark, and I realize it's because my eyes are closed so I open them to stare up at the bright blue sky. _Why is the sun shining on this, the day of my death?_

"Adair!" I can hear the tears in Dean's voice now. I manage to turn my head enough to see him crawling toward me, one hand clutching his middle, the other dragging his father's sword behind him. "Adair." His voice breaks on a sob.

I open my mouth to reply but only end up choking on my own blood.

"Easy." Dean's beloved face comes into view. Even though he's on his knees, he's swaying like he's just barely able to stay upright. "Don't try to talk," he tells me, cupping my right cheek in his left hand. It's sticky with what I know is a mixture of his own blood and that of the men he has slain today.

A cough wracks my frame and leaves me gasping for breath. "Go," I manage to croak out. "Before they get you."

"I won't leave you, Adair." The lad has always been beyond stubborn. "I can't. Don't ask it of me. Please."

My eyelids are getting heavy, and I'm having difficulty keeping them open. "Dean-" I have no more breath to finish saying what I need to.

He presses his forehead to mine and I feel tears drip onto my face. "I love you," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss to my lips. "I renounce my marriage. Erica McKinnon is dead to me. Yours is the life I want joined with mine. Your life is my life. Your fight is my fight. Your enemy is mine, your family is mine. Wherever you call home shall be my home, for wherever you go I shall follow. I pledge my life, my heart, my very soul to you, my love. Treat it kindly for you now hold my greatest possession." 

_Wedding vows? Why is he reciting wedding vows?_ I wonder then the answer comes to me. He never loved Erica. Hell, he never even liked her but he married her on order from our laird. _It would appear that my feelings for the lad are returned. Why couldn't we have figured this out before now? What cruel twist of fate that he professes his love for me as I lay dying in his arms._

He presses chaste kisses to my closed eyes, another sob escaping. He shifts as if to lie next to me but before he can, there's a commotion and Dean's warmth is gone. I try to open my eyes. I need to know he's alright but my lids are so very heavy and it's becoming even more difficult to draw breath into my lungs.

The last thing I hear before Death comes to take me to my reward is Dean's pained scream.

 

I jerk awake, panting hard, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest and sweat dripping down my face with Dean's name a smothered scream on my lips.

Slowly my breathing and heart rate return to normal. When I start to lie back, I reach out to my left where Dean is supposed to be. My hand flails a bit until my brain catches up, and I realize that he's not in bed. Panic flares quickly; he was here when I fell asleep last night. It's not like Dean to get out of bed without waking me. 

I roll from the bed, my heart starting to beat faster again. According to the clock it's mid-morning and there's only one reason I can think of for Dean to not have awakened me; there was an emergency of the Sylum variety. I can only hope he doesn't keep me out of the loop once I've been Turned.

The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar. Pushing it further open, I see Dean, still mostly wet from the shower, standing in the middle of the room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I bite back a sob and throw myself into his arms. He holds me close with his arms wrapped tight around my shoulders and my head tucked under his chin.

"Talk to me, Carter." His voice is as gentle as if he's talking to a spooked animal. And I guess at this moment in time, that's what I am.

"I dreamt we died." 

He rubs his chin in my hair. "Who died?"

" _Us_. You. Me. Everyone." I'm not quick enough to keep the sob from escaping this time.

Cupping his shoulders with my hands from behind, I shift until I'm standing up straight and press my cheek against his. He takes this as a suggestion to do something he knows annoys me; rubbing his cheek against mine so that our stubble scrapes together. This time, however, it soothes me. I sigh and relax some, my eyes closing in contentment.

"I can still taste-" I break off as an echo of Dean's death scream rings through my mind.

"Taste, what?" He cups one hand around the back of my head, offering me comfort as I begin to tremble again.

"Blood. I can still taste the blood in my mouth. Smell it too. Death. Blood. It was horrible."

"Shush," he murmurs. "It was just a dream. We're both okay. You're still alive and I'm still here." From his words, I can tell he hasn't figured out that my dream was about his and Adair's deaths. And that's just fine with me.

Something tells me that he thought Adair was already dead when he renounced his marriage to Erica and said the wedding vows to Adair. And for that reason alone, I won't tell him that I remember. Dean has enough issues with being touchy-feely and I don't want to ruin the moment. Instead I mumble against his neck, "It was still very disturbing," and hope I'm successful in working a pout into my tone.

"Yes, I can see just how 'disturbed' you are by it," he chuckles, grinding his hip against my growing erection.

Nope, not fooling anyone here, so I decide to not beat around the bush. "What can I say? Your smell turns me on."

"Just wait until you have Vampire senses." He pulls back just enough to capture my mouth with his.

Our tongues tangle while we fight for dominance of the kiss. I slide one hand up to grip the back of his neck while the fingers of the other dig into the skin and muscle next to his spine.

Eventually I need to breathe, so I pull back and rest my forehead against his. "Fuck me, Dean. Fuck me so fucking hard I feel it for days."

"God, Carter." His voice is rough with arousal. It's not often I demand he make it hurt but when I do, he usually does the exact opposite. Hopefully that won't be the case today. "Where?" I have to actually stop and think about what he's asking.

Licking dry lips, I back up a step until my hip touches the pedestal sink. "Here." I turn to lean on my hands on the edge, the angle forcing my ass to stick out in invitation. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, I tell him, "I want to watch you."

He chuckles, dropping the towel and stepping up close behind me. "You can watch if we do it face-to-face on the bed."

I roll my eyes. "But I can't watch you, _watching you_. If that makes sense."

"Yeah, it makes sense." He reaches over me to take the lube from the medicine cabinet before warming some between his fingers. He probes gently with one finger and I duck my head to hide the wince at the slight pain.

Dean is usually pretty gentle with me but last night was the first night we'd been together after a case where we were both in danger of getting a bullet between the eyes. 'We're alive' sex is always rough and Dean has stopped holding back as much. Almost as if he's trying to prepare me for when he Turns me and he doesn't have to hold back at all.

"Maybe-" he starts, adding a second finger.

"Don't even think it," I growl and spread my legs a bit to give him more access.

He just shakes his head, a tiny smile gracing his lips. Palming my ass cheeks, he spreads them and begins to slowly press inside.

"Dean!" I protest. "What part of 'hard' did you not understand?"

"You're still a bit sore from last night. I'm not gonna just slam my way in. Not until I know you can take it." Of course he'd be that thoughtful. Everything he's ever done has showed me that he is one of those Vampires who have the utmost respect for Humans and who will go out of their way to make sure none come to harm.

I let my head hang between my arms and just breathe through the initial burn of penetration. He pauses when he bottoms out and runs his hands up from my ass to wrap around my hips.

"Carter." I raise my head at the command in his voice, locking gazes with him in the mirror again.

Making sure I'm watching, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in. The force of his thrust pulls a gasp from me. He just smirks before repeating the move. Slowly, he increases the pace until his hips are doing a fair imitation of a piston and all I can do is hold onto the edge of the sink and take what he's giving me.

Dean's gaze eventually drifts down until he's watching his dick disappear into my ass as he thrusts in and out. I keep watching his face; waiting for something. And then I see it.

His lips curls until his canines are visible and as I watch, his fangs extend and his tongue plays with the tips. I'm not sure he's even aware he does it but it's a huge turn on for me. I like to think he's imagining biting my neck and draining me in preparation of Turning me.

He kicks my feet a little bit further apart and the new angle has him hitting my prostate, which in turn has me seeing stars. "Come for me, Carter."

Bracing myself on my left hand, I reach my right under me and wrap my fingers around my cock, stroking counter to his thrusts until the world shatters into a million pieces and I come all over my hand and the floor. Seconds later Dean empties himself inside me before leaning down and placing an open-mouthed kiss to the knot of bone at the top of my spine.

"Now, you need a shower, and I need another one," he chuckles, pulling out slowly.

I share in his laughter. "Somehow I don't think a shared shower is a good idea."

"Naw, it's the best idea. We are in a drought, you know." He wraps one hand loosely around my upper arm and pulls me into the shower where we spend several pleasurable minutes using up all the hot water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again, I find myself alone in the bed upon waking. _I'm going to kill him. Seriously, how difficult is it to remember to wake me?_

My jeans and a shirt land on my chest, alerting me to the fact that Dean is standing next to the bed. "Better get dressed."

"You couldn't have gotten me up when you did?"

He shrugs. "After the way you objected when I woke you a couple weeks ago, I figured you wanted me to start letting you sleep."

"I'd only been asleep an hour!" I prop myself up on my elbows to glare up at him. "And since you were the reason I didn't get any sleep that night, I had every right to be pissed."

"First time you ever objected to a blowjob so I thought you wanted me to stop."

"So not the point, Dean!" I toss back the covers. "I don't like waking up alone. Well, not anymore at any rate."

"Okay. Objection recorded." He turns to exit the room. "But you still need to get dressed."

"Why?"

"Janet's on her way."

I jump from the bed and scramble into my jeans. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me she was coming?"

"Because I only found out when she called just now. She has a job that keeps her quite busy and she never knows when she can make a trip like this until the last minute." His phone rings just as I pull my shirt over my head. "Hey." He sounds happy to see her. "Yeah. Just get in the elevator and come to the top floor." He puts his phone back in his pocket. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't been getting you up when I do. I can't really explain why I've been doing that." I have my suspicions about why, but I keep them to myself.

Dean opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors opening. The look he gives me has a shiver of arousal skating down my spine and my dick gives a very interested twitch. He smirks and turns to greet our visitor.

Slipping my feet into socks and shoes, I step around the glass brick wall into the living area.

"Carter, I'd like you to meet Janet Frasier, née Clarissa Barton." Dean waves one hand in the direction of the pretty blonde woman standing next to him. "Janet, Carter Shaw, my Mate."

"Clarissa Barton." I've done some research on some of the people Dean has said I'd most likely meet so I'm not surprised that Dean introduced her with both her names. "You founded the American Red Cross." I hold out one hand then remember what Dean said but before I can pull it back she takes it in hers and gives it a tiny squeeze.

"I did indeed. So, Dean." Janet turns to face him. "You staying for this lesson?"

Dean shrugs into his jacket. "Um, no." He shakes his head. "I know all I need to about what it means to be a Vampire."

Janet smacks him on the arm. "That's not all I'll be telling him."

"Still. I don't have any questions. Might've had some back when I was first Turned but not now."

Janet gives him a look that reminds me of the look a mother would give a troublesome child. "Fine. Go." She makes shooing motions with her hands. "I certainly don't need you distracting him."

Dean gives her a cheeky grin and leans down to kiss her cheek when she tilts her head to present it to him. "Be gentle with him," he requests.

"I'm a military doctor, Dean. 'Gentle' isn't in my vocabulary."

He huffs an amused breath, then steps closer to wrap one hand around the back of my neck so he can pull me into a down and dirty kiss.

"Enough, you two." Janet's voice is full of amusement.

"Ah, Janet. It's not like we're the first pair to get it on in your presence." Dean mock pouts at her.

"Maybe not, but I'm on a tight deadline here."

"Why didn't you say something?" Dean grumbles, turning and slamming his way out the stair door.

"I just did," she calls out just as the door closes on his retreating back, then turns back to me. "Do you want to ask questions, or do you want me to just talk?"

"I think I'll ask questions. Last time I got a lecture about Vampirism not many of my questions actually got answered and then I got distracted before I could ask them."

One of her eyebrows climbs her forehead. "I take it you asked Dean? Or rather it was Dean who gave you your 'lecture'?"

"Yeah. The closest Vamps that he feels comfortable having talk to me are the Epps brothers and they were Turned not that long ago."

We stare at each other for a few minutes, neither sure where to begin.

I clear my throat. "Can I get you anything?" I ask, taking a step toward the kitchen area.

Janet shakes her head. "I fed before coming here."

"But I know you can digest other liquids and even solids."

She smiles. "I'm fine, Carter. But thank you."

I nod my acceptance of her refusal of refreshment. "Please sit, make yourself at home."

She sits primly on the edge of one chair and I take up residence on the couch opposite.

"I think I'll start small and build to the big question," I begin.

"And that is?" One of her eyebrows climbs her forehead.

"What exactly, in medical terms, will happen when Dean Turns me."

She nods. "Yes, that is the big one. So, what's your first question?"

I cross one leg over the other and take a moment to get my thoughts in order. "What happens when a Vampire feeds? I've never seen one feed in person, Dean refuses to feed from me until he Turns me and, as far as I know, I've never been a Donor."

"Well-" She sits back in the chair. "-there are several places where a Vamp can feed from. The two main ones are the carotid artery and the jugular vein. My Mate prefers to feed from my femoral artery."

"Too much info, Doc," I say with a wince.

She chuckles. "Sorry. Most Vamps go for the carotid or jugular because they're the easiest to access. Especially during sex. Most Vamps who are just feeding from a Donor will feed from the wrist. It can be turned into a flirty kiss if the Donor should question it."

"That's not exactly what I was asking."

"Okay. What _exactly_ were you asking?" 

"What happens when a Vamp feeds? What does it feel like?"

"Well, first the Vamp picks the vein or artery he's going to feed from, then his fangs extend. They're used as a hole punch. Fangs are not hollow. They're pressed through the skin and into the blood vessel. When I feed, I let the Donor's heart pump the blood into my mouth, then I just swallow it. Others will actually suck the blood through the holes, like drinking from a straw."

"How much does a Vampire need?"

"At the very least two or three pints a month. It's recommended that each Vamp feed once a day but some can't do that."

"Why not? I've seen Dean drink several cups of cloned blood a day."

"I'm sure he's doing that so he doesn't give into the temptation of you. But most Vamps can't afford to drink more than one a day because cloned blood is expensive. Nick has tried to make the price more reasonable for Vamps who haven't been around long enough to have a large bank account or who just can't hold onto their money, but the cost of production keeps going up because Nick doesn't control all the elements needed."

"So the people who control those ingredients aren't allies of Sylum?" I tilt my head. It doesn't seem like Nick to not keep something as important as cloned blood firmly within his control. Even if just through a member of his Clan.

She frowns. "Unfortunately, those elements were in other hands before the formula for cloned blood was created. Nick has offered obscene amounts of money for controlling interest in those companies but no one will sell." She gives a wry twist of her lips at my raised brow. "Long winded way of saying, yes, controlling interest is held by enemies of Sylum."

"What happens after a Vampire feeds?"

"Well, he'll make sure the wound is closed by licking it. Vampire saliva has healing properties. It's being studied to see if it can be used in some kind of ointment for wounds."

"I always wondered why in the movies the Vampire licks where he bit his Donor." I relax back on the couch, stretching my arms across the back. "What happens to the Vampire? How is blood digested?"

"His heart will pump about one beat every minute for about an hour. This allows the blood to cleanse the body of any toxins the Vamp may have ingested with that feeding as well as allowing for the digesting of any solid food that has been eaten recently. And before you ask, yes Vampires use the bathroom. But only if there is any solid food in his system."

I nod in understanding. "I know Dean knows all this instinctively but he told me he can't explain it like you can."

She gives a humorless huff of laughter. "That is so like Dean. Of course he can explain it just as well as me. It's obvious he didn't tell you that he got a medical license back in the 60s. He never actually practiced, but he did go to medical school."

"Why? I mean if he wasn't going to use that knowledge, why spend the time and money learning?"

"Because Nick requires all his Vampires to know what it means, medically, to be a Vampire. He was given a choice; let me teach him or go to a Vampire approved medical school."

Chuckling at her words, I stand to go to the kitchen and make myself a glass of water. "I can just see how well that would have gone over with Dean. Let a younger Vampire teach him about something he's been for centuries or go to a school and learn from Humans."

"Actually, all the teachers were Vamps close to Dean's age."

"That makes sense." I place the empty glass on the coffee table and sit back on the couch, getting as comfortable as I can since I know this is going to be a long conversation. "So he just didn't trust you to tell him what he needs to know?"

"I think it was a combination of things. The attitude toward women had just started changing to think of us as equals and the fact that Dean still didn't trust Nick or anyone affiliated with Sylum all that much yet."

"He does seem to have trust issues."

"Who can blame him? I mean with what he's been through." She crosses one leg over the other, swinging her dangling foot a little bit. "Next question?"

"Does it take the same amount of time for the food to make its way through the Vampire's body as it does a Human's?"

"All solid waste is expelled from the Vampire's body within the hour after feeding that the heart beats."

I purse my lips as I decide which question to ask next. "I know Dean can't sweat. But if he feeds from someone who is stoned or drunk what happens?"

"If a Donor is drunk or stoned the Vamp that feeds from them will basically become drunk or stoned until all the toxins have been expelled."

"So if I feed from someone who's on meds for a heart condition, I'll feel the side effects?"

"Yes. And since you don't have a heart condition now, you won't have one once you're Turned so you'll have chest pains until the nitrates have left your system."

"How fast do Vampires heal? I mean, if I scratch Dean, can I sit there and watch it heal?"

"How fast a Vampire heals, depends on how severe the wound. A bullet wound to the head or chest will have the Vampire fall into a healing trance for several hours. A minor scratch will usually heal before it even really forms."

"Will the body type a Human has when they're Turned be their body type for the rest of their life?"

"Yes. That's why Jack O'Neill is having his knee surgery soon. Daniel Jackson finally figured out that they're Mates and they're planning on Jack Turning soon, and he doesn't want to have to deal with a bum knee for eternity." 

"How much stronger than Humans are Vampires? Can they lift a whole car by themselves?"

She laughs. "Lift a whole car? Someone's been watching too much late night TV. A Vampire can run faster, jump higher and throw a harder punch than a Human. They can even lift about one hundred pounds more but most definitely _not_ a whole car."

"What about the other senses?"

"Sight, smell and hearing are definitely sharper than a Human's. When Dean Turns you the first thing you'll have to learn is how to 'turn down' your senses. And when vamped out, a Vampire's vision is similar to if a Human is wearing night vision goggles."

"What about past lives? Do many Vamps remember much about them?" She tilts her head questioningly. "All my life I've had dreams of other lives. Now that I've met Dean, I'm pretty sure they're actually memories of some of my past lives."

"Ah. Most Vampires don't have clear memories of more than a handful of past lives. Usually ones they lived after their Vampire Mate was Turned. Or, in other terms, lives where they met their Mate once he was Turned."

"Interesting. I remember six lives. Three before Adair and two after."

She crosses her arms over her chest, tapping one finger thoughtfully against her lips. "That is interesting. I've never heard of anyone remembering lives _before_ their Vampire Mate's last Human life."

"I only have a couple more questions." She smiles and I get the feeling she wouldn't mind if I had dozens more questions. "When a Vampire is killed-" I clear my throat because I don't like thinking that there is a way to kill Dean. "Does the head have to be completely removed? Or does death occur when the brain stem is severed?"

"Have you seen the _Highlander_ movies?" I nod. "It's just like in those movies. The head has to be completely severed. Vampire DNA keeps the brain going as long as there are any connective tissues touching. As soon as the head leaves the neck, the body turns to Dust."

"And now the big question; what will happen when Dean Turns me?" I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees.

"First, Dean will drain about forty percent of your blood volume, that's the maximum that can be removed without causing brain damage. He'll then slit his wrist." She makes a vertical motion with her finger on the inside of her wrist, following the blue vein that's just barely visible beneath the skin. "And hold it to your mouth, forcing you to drink. As his Vampire DNA begins to overwrite your Human DNA your organs will begin to shut down in order of least importance; intestines, stomach, colon, spleen, pancreas, gall bladder, liver, bladder, kidneys and then your lungs followed by your heart. I was already dying when I was Turned so I don't remember if it was painful. I've been told it is, especially when your lungs stop working because your animal instincts will try and force air into them. You'll most likely panic but hopefully Dean's presence will ground you enough to keep that from happening."

"So he has to kill me?" I glance up at her, my brows lowered over my nose.

"Yes and no." She shifts on her chair, uncrossing her legs and crossing the opposite one. "You'll fall into a coma while his Vampire DNA overwrites your Human DNA. But once it's complete, you'll regain consciousness."

"But he'll feel me die since the Bond will have been started with him draining me." I make it a statement.

She sighs. "Yes. But since he can take his time with your Turning it'll only be for a few minutes. When I was Turned I was already dying so I was in a coma for several hours."

Shaking my head, I try to wrap my brain around all this. "It doesn't seem fair."

"Maybe not but it has to happen this way."

"Was your Mate already a Vampire when the two of you Bonded?"

"He was."

"Tell me about the Bonding process."

"That's one aspect of being a Vampire that no one is real sure of. Why Vampire Mates Bond and exactly how the Bond is created. The Bond is almost telepathic but not quite. You can't hear each other's thoughts but you can feel each other's moods and tell if the other is injured. The closer you are, the stronger it is, with it being strongest while feeding from each other."

I thread my fingers in my hair. "Not exactly what I meant but it'll do. Unless you know how the Bond forms?"

"All we really know is that the Bond forms when the Vampire Mates feed from each other. Something in Vampire DNA literally Bonds the two souls together."

"And that means if someone cuts off my head, Dean'll die as well." I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen.

"It's true for all Bonded pairs." Looking up through my fingers I can tell she's starting to put two and two together and she isn't liking what she's getting. "Carter? Talk to me. It is why I'm here."

I shake my head again. "I can't do this, Janet. I can't put him through this."

I feel the couch cushion next to me dip as she sits down next to me before rubbing my shoulders soothingly. "You have two choices at this point, Carter. Let him Turn you and spend the rest of time making him happy, or let him go. And I mean that. If you don't let him Turn you, you'll have to let him walk out of your life."

"I can't do that." The pain at just the thought of watching him walk out of my life has me biting back a gasp.

"Then you only have the one choice." Her cell rings, interrupting anything further she might have said. "Sorry, I have to get that."

"Yeah, I understand." I scrub my hands over my face when she stands to step over to where she dropped her purse when she entered. Pushing a couple of buttons she grimaces at the text message. "I have to return to base. Seems my pet trouble magnet has gotten hurt yet again." She slips her purse strap over her shoulder. "Tell Dean I'll be in touch." She turns toward the elevator, then turns back. "Remember what I said, Carter. If you can't, or won't, let him Turn you, you _have_ to let him go. If you think it's unfair to make him watch and feel you die, then think how unfair it is to sleep with you every night, knowing he'll have to watch you die of old age when he could have Turned you and given you eternal life." And with that she enters the elevator.

Once the doors close, I sit back on the couch and lean my head back to stare up at the ceiling. There is no way I can let Dean kill me. Not after everything he's been through since Adair died in his arms.

So intent am I on finding the courage to let the man I love walk out of my life, I don't really notice Dean coming in. Not until he says my name with a chuckle.

I close my eyes to keep him from seeing the anguish I know must be plain as day in them. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and, avoiding his keen gaze, stand up. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't do this." I walk around the glass brick wall into the bedroom area and pull my duffle from under the bed.

"Carter?" Dean's voice is thick with his confusion. "What the fuck's going on here?" I shake my head. If I answer, I'll just disgrace myself by breaking down and sobbing like a baby. "Talk to me, Carter!" he demands, ripping the duffle out of my reach. "When I left this morning you were almost ready. And now, just a few hours later you've decided you can't go through with it? What happened?"

Squaring my shoulders I look him in the eye, steeling myself to not give in to the temptation to beg him to Turn me now. "I just can't, Dean. After hearing what Janet had to say, I just can't." I plead with my eyes for him to understand; to not make me say the words.

He doesn't try to get me to talk again but he also doesn't move out of my way, forcing me to brush past him in order to leave the apartment.

I get in my truck in a daze and exit the garage. Not paying any attention to my surroundings, I drive. Just drive. My mind runs in circles. Going over and over everything Janet just told me.

When I become aware of my surroundings, I'm parked outside Nicole's house. Before I even think, I climb from the truck and approach her door. I knock lightly, don't want to wake the baby, and begin pacing while waiting for her to answer.

"Carter? What are you doing here?" I spin back to face where Nicole is standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

"I didn't wake the baby, did I?" I've always heard that Heaven had better help the person who wakes a sleeping baby.

"No, you didn't."

"Good. Is Steve home?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Tucking my hands in my pockets, I drop my gaze to the ground. "I need to talk to you."

She closes the door and walks down the steps to stand in front of me. "Carter? What's wrong?"

With a sigh, I look up and meet her eyes. The scowl has been replaced with a frown of concern. "I need to talk to someone. I guess deep inside I still consider you a friend."

"What do you need to talk about?"

I don't answer her question, instead, asking one of my own. "Do you believe in Vampires?"

"I do. Why?"

Again, I ignore her question in favor of asking my own. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you didn't, and I never liked arguing with you. Why are you asking me this now, Carter?"

I can tell she's getting frustrated and if I don't start answering her questions she'll go back inside the house and probably not speak to me ever again. "I just found out that someone I trust is a Vampire."

She sighs. "So, he finally told you."

My head snaps up at her response. "Wait, what?" I narrow my eyes on her face.

"Dean. He finally told you."

I take a step toward her. "How do _you_ know?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it without saying anything. Her eyes go wide when she realizes what my question means. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? Damnit, Nicole! You know how I feel about secrets."

"I do, Carter. But it was his decision to not tell you and I can't really go against that. Not even now."

"I deserve to know, Nicole!" How could he keep that he knew Nicole before me _from_ me? He told me other things, why not this?

She runs one hand through her hair. "I've known Dean my whole life."

"That right." If my tone becomes any drier, it'll be labeled a fire hazard. "Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Would you, if it was illegal to be who you are?" She shifts her weight to one foot and tilts her head to the side. "Think about it Carter. Most of his Vampire life, it's been illegal for him to be who he is. Not to mention he had a really rough childhood. And I mean rougher than anyone living today can even imagine."

"He told you this? About his childhood, I mean?"

She nods. "Yes. My family has been Chosen for hundreds of years. Dean saved the life of my many greats grandfather and when the man pledged his life to Dean, well he kinda had to tell him his secret."

"Chosen?" I'm getting even more confused the more she talks.

"I think you should tell me what you know and then I can fill in any gaps."

"I know about Donors, Soul Mates and that I'm Dean's."

"Okay. Well, Chosen are like Donors except all Chosen know at least one Vampire personally while Donors don't always. Chosen are people who know the Vampires' secret and help keep it in exchange for the protection of a Vampire Clan."

"Do all Chosen become Donors?"

"It's not required. Or rather, if a Human is a Chosen of a 'good' Vampire, it's not required. Most Chosen do become a Donor for the Clan they're associated with because it's considered a great honor to be fed from."

Chosen Ones. Donors. Soul Mates. These are all things I should have been told about long before now. "I've been fucking him for _three months_ , Nicole! Why didn't he tell me all this when he told me he's a Vampire?" I pace agitatedly back and forth in the tiny area between her house and the one next door.

"I can't answer that."

"Did he ever fuck you?" I'm not sure how I'll feel if she answers yes.

"No. And when I told him I had met you, he even stopped feeding from me."

I spin to look at her, confusion pulling my brows into a frown over my nose. "What do I have to do with anything?"

"Oh, Carter. He really hasn't told you shit, has he?"

"What is there to tell me? I know I'm his Soul Mate. What more is there? About me, that is?"

She sighs and sits on the steps, patting the spot next to her. "Come. Sit and we'll talk." I sit, a bit worried about what she has to say. "What do you know about Adair?"

"More than Dean thinks I do," I mutter, bracing my arms on my knees and staring at the ground.

"What?" I've managed to surprise her.

With a small smile, I turn my head just enough to look at her out of the corner of my eye. "All my life, I've had dreams where I was another person. I now know those are memories of past lives."

"How many?" She turns sideways so she can look at me.

"Six. Including Adair."

"Six!" She seems surprised. At my raised eyebrows, she clarifies, "Most people only remember one or two. Three at the most. Are all six after Adair?"

I shake my head. "No. Three before, two after."

"Tell me about them. The dreams, I mean."

"I used to have them about the same amount. Until I met Dean. Now most of my dreams are about Adair."

"Before or after he met Dean?"

"Both. I know things I don't think even Dean knows."

"Like what?"

"Like Adair had a son. His wife died in childbirth and Adair gave the child to her parents to raise."

"Dean knows that."

"He does?" She nods her head. "And he told you?"

She sighs again. "Yes. That's why he stopped seeing me when I met you."

"I still don't understand."

She reaches over and pats my knee. "You, Carter Shaw, are a direct descendant of Adair McShaw."

My jaw drops at her statement. I had always wondered. My family's lineage was lost when they arrived in America because they didn't come through Ellis Island and tried very hard to fit in with their adopted homeland.

"How long has he known I'm his Soul Mate?"

"Since the two of you shook hands when he came to ask you to hire him."

"Then why stop seeing you when we met if he didn't know then?"

"Because you're of Adair's blood. He's been in love with Adair since he was a kid. When we became romantically involved he saw seeing me as a betrayal. To you and to Adair's line."

"Did he know I had Adair's soul back then?"

"Probably. He had seen pictures of you, so it is possible."

I blink at her. "You can see someone's soul in a picture?"

"Of course. The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all."

"Yeah. Just never thought you could actually see someone's soul in a photograph."

"Yeah, well, you can. Especially with today's level of photography."

"Yeah, I got that." Huffing a laugh, I run my fingers through my hair, then, unable to sit still any longer, I jump up to pace the area again. "It's a lot to take in, you know?"

"I know. It was a lot for me and I've known most of this my whole life."

"What do I do, Nicole? I can't let him go but I also don't know if I can let him kill me."

"Then you need to talk to Horatio Caine and Jethro Gibbs."

"Why?" I turn to look at her, my weight on one foot and my hands tucked into my pockets.

"Because they were where you are not that long ago."

"And just who are they?"

"Horatio is Head of Clan Security. When Don Diego was killed in the war last year, Nick appointed Horatio as the new head."

"And this Gibbs person?"

"He's Second in Command with his Mate, Tony DiNozzo."

I nod, taking in all this info. "It's still a lot of info in a short amount of time."

"It is. I could just shoot Dean for not telling you most of this."

I return to sit next to her on the steps. "Tell me about the hierarchy of the Clan." 

"Well, you know that Nick is the leader." I nod. "He rules with his Mate, Warrick Brown. Anthony DiNozzo and Jethro Gibbs are Second in Command with Timothy Speedle as the Clan Advisor and Horatio Caine as Head of Security."

"Anyone else I need to know about?"

"Well, Janet Frasier is the Clan Doctor. And Richard Riddick is Head Hunter and the trainer of new Hunters."

"Riddick as in…?"

She rolls her eyes and makes a rude noise of frustration in the back of her throat. "Did he not tell you that most, if not all, books, comics, TV shows and movies are based on Vampires?"

"He did but _Pitch Black_ and _The Chronicles of Riddick_ are set in the future and in space."

"Yeah, well, Riddick made them up. They're stories he used to tell the kids in his gang when he was Human."

Before I can respond to that, the door opens behind us. "Nicole," Steve, my former partner and Nicole's current fiancé, calls. "Charlie's fussing. I think he's hungry."

"Okay." We stand up. "Call Nick. He'll help you get a flight out."

"He won't tell Dean?"

"Of course he will. But Dean won't follow."

"He won't?"

"No." She shakes her head. "He will give you the space you need."

"Will he?" I glance up at where Steve's standing in the doorway and give him the 'what's up?' head nod which he returns.

"Of course. He wants to make sure you're sure and totally ready to be Turned."

"Thank you, Nicole." I pull her into a brief hug just before she turns to go up the steps.

"If I didn't know that you love him in a way you never loved me, I'd tell you to walk away because of your doubts."

"How do you know I love him like that?"

"You wouldn't be _here_ if you didn't." She starts up the steps. "Now go. Get the answers you seek."

"Thank you again," I say, walking back to my car. Her "You're welcome" reaches my ears just before I close the door.

The drive to LAX is spent on my blue-tooth making arrangements with Nick to get me on the next flight out to Miami. Nick must have mentioned his name or Sylum, because when I get there I'm walked through security, personally, by the head of the TSA of LAX. Once on the plane, the flight attendant shows me to my seat. In first class. Being associated with Sylum sure does seem to have its perks. The flight is uneventful, and I sleep through most of it.

After we land at Miami International, I exit the plane, debating whether or not to rent a car versus hiring a taxi to take me to the Miami-Dade Crime Lab which is where Nick told me I would find Tim Speedle and his Mate, Horatio Caine.

Upon exiting security, I discover that I needn't have worried about how I'd be getting to the lab because a man approaches and asks, "Lieutenant Shaw?"

"Yes?" I give him a once over. He's just as Nick described: dark hair, olive skin, average height, wearing clothes that are slightly too big for him and with an expression that leads one to wonder if he's bored with life in general or just the people within his general purview. "Detective Speedle?"

His smile is disarming to say the least. "Friends call me 'Speed'," he says and extends his hand.

Remembering my Vampire manners, I take his hand and give it a brief squeeze. "Nick send you?"

"Yes and no." He turns to walk away. "Got any bags?"

"Nope. Just the duffle," I say, patting the bag hanging from my left shoulder.

"Great. Let's go." He doesn't wait for me to catch up, just continues striding toward the glass doors that lead to the parking lot.

Once outside, the heat is stifling. I know that Miami is a tropical city but I wasn't prepared for the heat. After living my whole life on the west coast with the Pacific Ocean's cool winds blowing ashore, it's almost too much.

"How do you stand it?" I ask without thinking, slipping a pair of sunglasses in place to try and protect my eyes from the glare of the Miami sun.

"Vampire," he says as if that one word is answer enough. And I guess it is. I know that despite not having heart beats vampires are impervious to temperature. Or is that because of? I shrug mentally. Whichever it is, the truth is that Vampires are unaffected by the temperature around them. Except when they feed and then their body temp rises.

"Right. Sorry." I quicken my pace to catch up after lagging behind at the shock of the heat. "What did you mean when you said 'yes and no' when I asked if Nick sent you to fetch me?"

He stops suddenly and I almost run into him. "First off-" He spins to face me. "I don't fetch for anyone, not even Nick. And second-" He turns and begins marching away again."-I don't know you. Why would I allow you anywhere near my Mate?"

"Even though Nick vouches for me?"

"Nick's never met you either, _English_. So what makes you think that counts for anything?"

"English? Why'd you call me that?"

"Shaw is an English name."

"Shortened from 'McShaw'. As in _Adair McShaw_. You do know who he is, right?" I stop walking and plant my feet, refusing to budge another step at this time.

He looks around, then, spying me, stomps back to stand in front of me, doing his best impression of a very pissed off Vampire. "Of course I know who Adair is. Fact remains, your family moved to America from England. Therefore, you-" He jabs me in the chest with his finger. "-are _English_."

"Actually," I shift my weight to one foot and tilt my head to the side. "I'm American. My family moved here sometime after the Revolution. But, if you want to call me something other than my name, how about 'Scot'?"

I can hear him grinding his teeth, then suddenly he grins at me before slapping me on the shoulder. "Good to know you won't back down from a fight. Dean has a lot of enemies."

"Does he now?" I narrow my eyes on his face. Should I count this man as one of Dean's enemies?

"C'mon," he says with a flick of his head before turning and continuing on his way to the parking lot.

I don't know what kind of vehicle I expect him to drive, but the H2 with the MDPD Crime Lab logo on the doors isn't even close.

He sees me eyeing the SUV and snorts. "I was on the clock when the call came in. H told me to take the Hummer instead of making you ride my bike."

"I'll have to thank him for that," I mutter, climbing into the front passenger seat.

The drive to the lab is full of the most awkward silence of my life. I keep trying to come up with something for us to talk about. The only thing I can come up with feels to me like the safest topic, for now.

"So, how long have you known Dean?" I turn a little in my seat so I can look at him.

"Long enough."

Am I not going to get any straight answers out of him? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look," he sighs and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. "I still don't know you. Why should I tell you things only a friend should know?"

"So the fact that I'm Dean's Soul Mate and the reincarnation of Adair McShaw means nothing?" I love how he's trying to protect Dean and all, but _damnit_ , I'm Dean's Mate! These people should trust me on that alone.

"Have you heard about what's been happening to the Clan lately?"

"I was told there was a war last year." I'm totally puzzled as to what that has to do with me. I wasn't even aware of Dean's true nature until recently.

"Yeah, well. The war wasn't just last year." He checks his mirrors and merges left. "It's been going on for years but became an all-out war in 2004 when an enemy tried to kill me then kidnapped Nick and buried him alive. And all this after trying to kill Tony with The Plague. There was a traitor within the Clan. And while he's been dealt with, Nick has gotten stricter about who has access to anything, and any _one_ , that has to do with the Clan."

"And because of that, you won't tell me how and when you met Dean?"

He chuckles. "No, that has to do with my not trusting you personally yet."

"If Dean can trust me, what can't you?"

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and I can see a small smile curling one corner of his mouth. "Does he _really_ trust you? Think before you answer. Your answer to that will be found in your answer to this: has he told you everything, or anything really, about Sylum Clan? Do you still have questions he can easily answer?"

I open my mouth to say 'of course he trusts me' but something makes me pause and think. _Really_ think about the past three months. It's not just that Dean hasn't answered questions about the Clan and his past. Or even that he's told me things of his own free will. It's more that I haven't asked. Of course he could have just told me but that's not Dean. He doesn't talk about things. He's very secretive about his past and all things to do with Vampire society. But still, he knows I need to know these things. "Dean's very secretive about his past. And his present, if I'm being honest." I try and keep my frustration from my voice but I know I'm not successful.

"As are most Vampires. Especially those of us that were Turned back when it was still illegal for us to exist." He glances at me from the corner of his eye again. "So, again, I ask you: if Dean doesn't trust you with his past, why should I?"

Grinding my teeth together, I try and regain control of my emotions. It won't do to anger this man. Not while I'm in his home territory. "I just want to know how you met Dean. Was he the one who Turned you?"

"No. Nick did. You'll find that Nick has Turned most of the Clan."

"Interesting." I rub my palm over my chin. "Will you, _please_ , tell me how you met Dean? I'm finding too many people in my life knew him, and knew _of him_ , before I did."

"You talking about Nicole?" Now that's a name I never thought I'd hear from him.

"How do you know Nicole?"

"She told you she's been a Chosen her whole life, right?"

"Yeah." I stretch the word out into several syllables.

"Well-" He takes a deep breath. "-a chosen isn't just the chosen of one Vampire but for the entire Clan."

I sigh deeply at how little I actually know about my soon to be family. "Maybe I should have started asking questions a couple of months ago."

"Ya think?" he quips with a bark of humorless laughter.

"So sue me. The man's great in bed and I tend to get distracted when we're alone."

"I know."

"I tend to think of-" I begin, then what he just said registers. "Wait, what?"

He snorts a laugh. "I said, 'I know'." He glances over his shoulder before merging right and then exiting the freeway. "You really think Dean hasn't fucked other members of the Clan?"

"I know he has a past but I never thought…" I shake my head. "I don't know what I thought. He keeps himself separate from the Clan so I didn't think it would be an issue. It's one thing when the former fuck buddy is a Donor but something else when it's another Vampire."

"Why's that?"

"With a Donor, the sex is like dessert. With another Vampire, it's just sex. And that makes me sound like a jealous boyfriend." I lean my head back against the seat and watch the scenery go by.

"Actually, I feel the same way about Horatio. From what I've been told, it means that you're who you need to be for your Vampire Mate to Turn you."

I turn my head to look at him. "I'm not sure I understand. I thought the soul determined who a Vampire is supposed to spend eternity with."

"Yes and no." Traffic's starting to pick up a bit so he stops talking to concentrate. "Before you yell at me for that evasive answer-" He continues when the traffic thins out again. "-it's not a question that has just a yes or no answer. See, the soul tells a Vampire when they've met the other half of their soul. But the soul has nothing to do with whether or not two people are compatible. Personality makes all the difference. You have to like the _person_ the soul belongs to." He sighs and looks over at me when we stop at a red light. "I'm not explaining it very well, am I?"

"No, I understand. The Vampire and Human must be attracted to each other for the Bond to work. And the soul isn't what people are attracted to, that's the personality."

"Correct." The light turns green and he continues on our way to the crime lab. "From what I've been told, a Vampire who feels jealous over a Human has found the person he's supposed to Turn and Bond. And for the Human to feel that way for the Vampire means they've found the Vamp they belong with."

"I don't think Dean feels jealous over me."

"Nick begs to disagree." I look at him sharply in confusion. "Dean went to see him several months ago. You knew that, right?"

"I knew Dean went to Vegas to see a friend but I didn't know it was Nick."

"You have been talking to Nick, right?"

"Yeah. Couple of times a week since Dean told me he's a Vampire."

"Then you know Nick lives in Vegas?" I hadn't made to connection, but I nod my head. "Nick said that when Dean came to see him he was antsy, couldn't sit still. In fact, Nick said that when they went to eat, Dean's leg was bouncing so hard Nick was afraid it was going to move the table."

"And all this means that Dean is supposed to Turn me?"

"It does. Vampires are very protective of what's theirs, including Soul Mates; _especially_ Soul Mates. Some don't mind sharing with Donors or the occasional Vampire and then there are those like me, and I'm guessing you and Dean, who can't bear the thought of their Mate fucking anyone but them."

I turn my head to stare out the window again. "At this time I've asked him to not fuck anyone else." I want to believe he'll respect my request, but a part of me keeps whispering that he's well over a thousand years old and has been fucking whoever catches his fancy all that time, so why should he stop now just 'cause I asked?

"You don't think he'll honor your request?" Tim's voice is soft, almost like he knows the answer but is afraid I'll break down when I say it.

"Honestly?" I sigh deeply. "I'm not sure. I'd like to say I'm positive he will, but I can't. Truth is, I just don't know him that well." The part of me that is Adair is screaming that I'm wrong, that Dean would never betray me once I ask him not to. While the other part of me is still saying it's possible."

We fall silent, each lost in our own thoughts. I lose all sense of time and so startle a bit when he puts the SUV in park and turns off the engine. "End of the line," he says but he makes no move to exit the vehicle. Clearing his throat, he shifts in his seat and I get the impression I'm not gonna like what he's about to say. "Look, Lieutenant," he begins.

"Carter, please," I interrupt.

"Carter." He dips his head in acknowledgment. "Dean has been angry with life in general and being a Vampire in particular for centuries. Because of that he kept himself hidden in the middle of the Sahara for most of his Vampire life. The time he's spent here is the longest he's been in Human society since his time in Medieval Japan."

"How long was that?"

"From 1290-1420." I give a low whistle. "It has never been illegal to be a Vampire in Japan. The next time he surfaced for any amount of time was around 1500. Only reason he's been here this long is because a Chosen that got him, and most of the Clan, wrapped around her little finger the first time they met, asked him to watch over her child when she discovered she was pregnant."

"But wouldn't any child of a Chosen be immediately protected by the Clan?"

"Yes, but she saw his wounded soul and wanted to heal it."

"He does seem to bring that out in people." I shift in my seat, mulling over what I have learned today about Vampires in general and Dean in particular. "So, what exactly are you saying?"

He chews his lower lip and I can see he's trying to decide if he can trust me with the rest of what he has to say. "What I'm saying is, Dean is still very much wounded. He doesn't talk much about his life before he was Turned but I do know he lost his parents tragically when he was a teenager. Their loss and the events leading up to it made him extremely angry with the world. Being taken in by the leader of his Clan did little to ease that anger or even the hurt he suffered at his parents' deaths. The Vampires who took him in after he was Turned tried to help him come to terms with his new life but they were mostly unsuccessful. Only Ardeth seemed to be able to get through to him. Well, Ardeth, Daniel, then John and finally Riddick." He turns to look me in the eye. "What I'm saying, Carter, is that Dean is special. He was Turned Without Consent and has had to struggle with wanting to end his life. I assure you that if anyone associated with Sylum knew who was responsible for his Turning, that… monster would rue the day he decided to Turn Dean without Dean's consent."

"Glad to know he has so many people looking out for him."

"Within Vampire society, Dean is special. And not just because of who he is or because he was Turned Without Consent, but because he never asked anyone to Dust him."

My brows lower in a frown of confusion. "Why does that make him special?"

"Most Vampires consider being Turned Without Consent close to being raped. Although not quite. You will be hard pressed to find a Vamp who was Turned Without Consent who hasn't at least thought about asking someone to Dust them."

"And Dean has never wanted to end his life?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Before he can say more, his cell rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at the caller ID, then swears under his breath. "Duty calls," he sighs.

Giving a nod of my head, I grab my duffle from the backseat and climb from the cab. "Thanks for telling me what you did."

"Sure. I can tell you care for him a great deal and that man needs all the love he can get." He turns the car back on. "H is expecting you. Just go to reception and ask for Lieutenant Caine."

"Thanks again." I slam the door closed and watch as he backs out of the parking spot and then drives off down the road. 

Slinging my duffle over my shoulder, I turn and enter the building. The inside of the building is full of light streaming in through glass walls. Everywhere I look is glass and chrome. It's an unusual design for a crime lab but somehow it seems to work.

I approach the reception desk and the pretty blonde uniformed officer behind it. "Lieutenant Carter Shaw to see Lieutenant Caine," I say when she glances up at me.

She smiles and picks up the phone. "Lieutenant? There's a Lieutenant Shaw here to see you." She pauses to listen to whatever Horatio's response is. "Understood, Sir." She hangs up the phone. "If you'll just sign in, Lieutenant Caine will be right down." She slides a visitor log toward me as well as a visitor's badge.

I return her smile and sign in. Just as I finish crossing my 't', the elevator behind me opens. "Lieutenant Shaw?" I turn and find myself face to face with a red-headed man about my height and age. He grins and walks toward me, one hand extended. "How was your flight?"

"Uneventful." He chuckles at my answer. "Does Nick always spring for first class?" I lean close to whisper in his ear.

"Only when his private jet is unavailable." He turns to his right and extends that arm to indicate he wishes to go in that direction. "Thanks, Paula. We'll take the short way back to my office. I just happened to be closer to the elevators when Paula called that you were here."

We begin walking in the direction he indicated, neither speaking until we can get somewhere private. I find myself admiring the architecture. And here I thought LA had some of the most unique architecture but Miami has proven that's not true. All the glass and chrome fits perfectly with the tropical atmosphere of the city.

After climbing a flight of stairs, we enter an office that keeps the glass and chrome theme going right down to the glass desk set on the far side of the room.

I dump my duffle on the floor next to the door and wander over to the windows that are overlooking a lab where techs are performing tests on samples of evidence.

"So," he begins, coming to stand at my left and join me in watching his techs do their jobs. "Nick said you still have questions."

"Yeah." I chew my bottom lip while trying to figure out how to word what I need to ask. "I was told that just a few years ago you were where I am in regards to your Mate."

"Pretty much, yes. One major difference is that I didn't fuck Tim until after he Turned me."

I glance sharply at him when he says that. "Are there no secrets in this Clan?"

"Not many, no. But don't worry. That's one secret that's not common knowledge. Yet. I can smell Dean on you."

"How is that possible? It's been nearly a day since I was last with him, and I've been in close contact with other Humans in the meantime."

"A Vampire's scent is stronger than a Human's. It lingers for days. It's how we 'mark' our Donors as well as those that have been fed from recently. The stronger the scent, the longer the Human has been with that particular Vampire." He eyes me like I'm a suspect. "You do know that one Human can only be fed from once every six to eight weeks, right?"

"That is one of the things I do know." I turn back to stare out the window. "Tell me about you and Tim, please."

"This lab-" He raps one knuckle against the glass. "-is his. He was a CSI before I was given the day shift supervisor position. I used to stand here and watch him work. There was always something about him. I never could quite put my finger on it. Then in 2004 we had what started out as a murder turned kidnapping that led us to a jewelry store. It went south fairly quickly once Tim and I entered the store. His gun jammed and he took one through the heart. He woke up on Alexx's, she's our ME, table. Just about gave her a heart attack. The rest of the team and I came in just as he was drinking the blood of a recent arrival in the morgue. When he said it wasn't enough to help him heal I offered myself. At first he refused. Told me I'm his Soul Mate and to feed from me would start the Bond and with our jobs that's not a good thing.

"It took a while, but I finally convinced him to feed from me. Afterwards I expected we'd get closer but it's like him feeding from me drove a wedge between us. While I was beginning to learn about Vampires and stuff like that, we were hardly ever alone. Outside of work, that is.

"Six months later, I met Nick. And learned that while I was taking my time deciding if I wanted to be Turned or not, Tim was getting weaker. I had no idea. He didn't tell me. When I found out, I made sure I got the answers I needed and then we began planning my Turning." He walks over to his desk and sits in the chair behind it. "What I'm saying, Lieutenant, is if you're not going to let Dean Turn you, you have to force him to leave."

I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You're not the first one to tell me that." I cross one knee over the other. "Only problem is, I can't do that. I barely remember my life before Dean but I do remember I was a bigger bastard than I currently am and I refuse to go back to that."

"I understand." He sits back in his chair. "I felt the same about Tim but you have to do one or the other. You have to either let him Turn you or make him leave."

"What if I leave?"

He chuckles. "Do you really think he wouldn't follow if you did?"

He has a point. But then again, so do I. "But I can't let him _kill me_."

"It's not for long. And is more like falling asleep. It's just so his Vampire DNA can overwrite your Human DNA."

"I know this. But I can't get past the fact that he has to watch me die and know that he did it."

"But he knows it's not a _true_ death. It's just to start the process of Turning you into a Vampire. You'll be unconscious for several minutes to an hour and when you wake you'll be one step closer to becoming his Bonded Mate."

"Is this something you struggled with? Knowing he was going to have to end your Human life? And that he was going to have to watch as your heart stopped?"

"I did. But I have a feeling I didn't struggle with it for the same reason as you."

"Meaning?"

"Most of the Clan knows that Adair died in Dean's arms. And that he was head over heels for the man. Losing Adair that way and becoming an unwilling Vampire just added to his anger over his parents' deaths. Dean will cry as you die but they will be tears of joy because your death at his hands means you will not be taken from him ever again."

"How many times did Tim meet your soul before now?"

"Just once. During the Civil War. Tim was a doctor and Sean Caine came to his table barely alive. I remember looking up at him and asking him to not mourn that life's loss because I would return and we would be together then."

"And yet you struggled with letting him Turn you."

"You have to understand, Lieutenant," he begins.

"Carter, please," I interrupt. Being deep undercover like I usually am, I'm not used to being called by my rank anymore.

"Carter." He dips his head much like Tim did in the car. "You have to understand that I had no memory of any past lives until after he Turned me."

"Not one dream where you were living someone else's life?" It amazes me that he had absolutely no memories of his past lives when I've had them all my life.

He shakes his head. "No. Not even a hint. I did feel like I'd met Tim before when we were first introduced but other than that…" He shrugs. "From what I can tell it's not unusual." Before I can respond to that, the phone on his desk begins to ring. He looks at the caller ID and swears under his breath. "Excuse me. I have to take this," he says, lifting the receiver. "Horatio." He listens to whatever the person on the other end is saying, his expression darkening. "I understand. I'll be right there." He replaces the handset with a sigh, then looks at me. "I'm sorry, Lieu-Carter. Alexx has something I need to see." He stands and I follow suit. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we meet again." 

I take the hand he extends and shake it. "The pleasure was all mine, Lieutenant," I reply, turning to walk toward the door.

"Horatio, please. I have a feeling we'll be family soon." I look over my shoulder and see that he means it. He truly wants me to let Dean Turn me. I want that too, but I can't get past the whole dying in his arms for the second time thing. "Did Nick give you a ticket to go see Jethro as well? Or did he think I'd be able to convince you to Turn?"

"Everyone has suggested I see you and Jethro. But I think I'll rent a car and drive."

"That's quite a drive. Miami to DC." 

"I have a lot of thinking to do and what better way than by driving?"

"You have a point," he chuckles, reaching around me to open the door. "I'll walk you out."

"Thanks." I pick up my bag and we both step through the door and begin walking down the hall toward the entrance. 

When we arrive back at reception, he turns to me and again extends his hand. "I _know_ we'll meet again, Lieutenant. And I _know_ that when we next meet, you will have made the right decision for you."

I take his offered hand and again shake it. "Thanks, again, Lieutenant. I hope you're right. Right now I'm not sure what that is."

"You love him. Follow your heart." And with that he walks back the way we came.

I return the visitor's badge and ask the receptionist for the number to Enterprise Rent-a-Car.

While waiting outside for my rental car to arrive, I'm approached by Tim again. "All done asking your questions?"

"Your Mate has told me what he can."

He tilts his head to the side. "Why do I feel like you haven't gotten all your answers?"

"Maybe because I haven't?" I tuck my hands in my front pockets. "I'm off to see Jethro Gibbs now."

"Yeah? Need a ride back to the airport?"

"I have a rental car coming. I'm actually going to drive. Need the time to think."

"You could always crash in our guest room. Get a fresh start in the morning."

"As tempting as that offer is, I think I'd rather get a start now." I don't want to offend these Vampires, I just might need their help with Dean one day, but I also need to be alone to think about what I've been told today.

"It is a lot to take in, I admit. I'm not sure I would have made the decision to be Turned if I wasn't already dying."

"And yet you think I should." I make it a statement and can see in his eyes that he knows what I mean.

"Just imagine not having to worry about your health, ever again. Being able to be with Dean forever. Bonding is more binding than a Human marriage contract. There isn't a job in the world that can fire you, or refuse to hire you, because you have a male lover since the two of you are Vampires."

"Except Dean's not out, yet. Only two members of our team know he's a Vamp; me and Jaimie."

"Law says if you tell your employer in confidence that you're a Vamp, it's not to be added to your employee records. Same with your doctor. Of course, you'll have to start seeing a Sylum doctor once you Turn, but you'll quickly discover that there are members of Sylum, Chosen and Vampires alike, in every single government agency in the country as well as in the medical profession. Doctors and EMTs in most major cities are usually Chosen."

"Yeah, I kinda got that. Dean was shot in the vest on a case and I figure the EMTs had to have been Chosen to overlook the fact that he doesn't have a pulse."

Before he can even open his mouth to respond, a newer model sedan with the Enterprise car rental agency logo on the door pulls up and a well dressed man in his mid-twenties gets out. "Carter Shaw?" he asks, glancing at the clipboard in his hands.

I raise one hand and call back, "That's me." Turning to face Tim again, I say, "It was a pleasure, Speed."

"Likewise," he replies. "Follow your heart, Carter and I know you'll make the right decision."

"Thank you." I approach the car and allow the rental agent to assist me into the passenger seat.

Luckily he doesn't seem inclined to fill the silence with useless chatter, instead only answering my questions about prices.

Once at the rental agency, the paperwork is quickly taken care of and all is running smoothly until I go to pay. When I had the agent my card she pushes it back and says, "Your bill has already been paid in full for a whole month, Mr. Shaw."

"By who?" I demand, trying to figure out how Dean could have found me.

She glances at her computer screen, a small frown marring her forehead. "Sylum Corporation. Your assistant called and said you went off and left your corporate card." _My assistant?_ "He wanted you to have an SUV but, unfortunately, we don't have any available at this time so he said a Dodge Charger would be fine."

Sylum Corporation. _Nick._ Tim must have called him about my change in plans.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Shaw?" The agent brings my attention back to her.

"Hm? Oh, yes. I just wasn't aware that my assistant knew I had left my card behind."

She chuckles. "You executive types tend to forget that your assistants know _everything_." She slides a sheet of paper toward me and points to the line where I'm supposed to sign. "He said when he went to put your mail on your desk, he saw your card sitting there, right where he put it so you wouldn't forget it" She squares all the papers by tapping them on the counter before stapling them together and folding them into an envelope which she then hands to me. "He said to call him when you get to a hotel and he'll overnight it so you'll have it for your trip."

"Thank you." I take the envelope. "Do you have a map from here to DC?"

The smile she gives me tells me I'm showing my age. "The Charger is a 2010 and has a GPS."

"Of course. Thanks, again."

Just as I turn from the counter, a man who could be the younger brother of the one who drove me here enters and approaches. "Mr. Shaw?"

"That's me."

"Your car's ready. If you'll follow me." He turns and exits, holding the door for me.

Pulled up to the curb just outside the door is a shiny black 2010 Dodge Charger. It's certainly nicer than anything I'd ever rent, or even buy, for myself. In fact all my vehicles have been pre-owned. None have been more than a few years old, with the exception of my very first car. That one was handed down from my parents and was over ten years old, but in excellent condition.

I nod my thanks when the young man hands me the keys. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I slide behind the wheel and press the speed dial number for Nick. Twisting the key in the ignition, I turn the car on and worry that it might be too early in Nick's day for a phone call. It is early evening in Miami so it would be late afternoon in Vegas. I really have no idea what time he gets up.

_"Stokes,"_ Nick answers after the third ring.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

Nick chuckles. _"Of course not. Got about an hour before I have to be at work so I was already up. What can I do for you?"_

I take a deep breath and try to figure out the nicest way of asking the leader of one of the most powerful Vampire Clans on the planet if he's been butting into my and Dean's affairs. "Who played the part of my assistant?"

He laughs softly. _"That would be me. Is the car to your liking?"_

"It's, uh, it's fancier than I usually go for."

_"Yeah, I tried to get you your usual vehicle but they were all out."_

"So the agent said." I lean my head back against the seat. "Why'd you do this, if you don't mind my asking?"

When he doesn't answer right away, I'm afraid I've gone and pissed him off. Just as I'm about to apologize for overstepping my bounds, he sighs deeply and says, _"You still haven't figured out that you have a family now, have you?"_ I lean forward and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. _"You belong to Sylum and we take care of our own."_

"But I'm not a Vampire, nor have I Pledged my Oath."

_"Doesn't matter, Carter. You're Dean's Soul Mate. That makes you family."_

I take a deep breath and hold it for several seconds. "I haven't made my decision about that, Nick."

_"I know."_

"Tell me what to do."

_"I can't do that. Only you can tell you what the next step is."_

"I don't know that I can."

_"I get that. Really I do. Only problem is it isn't fair to Dean. You have to make a decision; either let him Turn you or force him into walking away."_

"So everyone keeps telling me," I mutter, sitting upright and running one hand down my face. "You have any idea how difficult it is to even think of a life without him?"

_"I think I have an idea, yeah."_

Of course he does. Just like most every other Vampire around, well, those who have been around long enough to have watched their Soul Mate die a Human death. "Right, sorry. I just…" I falter with a frustrated growl.

_"You haven't asked about him."_

"I know. I'm not sure I want to know."

_"Let me tell you that if you force him to leave, it won't be pretty."_

"Meaning?" My brows lower in a frown over hearing that.

_"Meaning you're going to have one hell of a time cleaning up after him when you get back from this navel gazing trip of yours. And you're damn lucky Maynard's a Chosen."_

I bite back a groan. "What has Dean done?" I ask, then the rest of his statement registers. "Wait, what? Maynard's a Chosen?"

Nick chuckles. _"I'll answer your first question, first."_ There are some rustling noises on the other end of the phone and I can just see Nick preparing for his shift. _"I haven't been told any details, just that a member of the Clan who also happens to be FBI, managed to get him holed up in a room in one of the local Vamp bars."_

"He's gorging himself, isn't he?"

_"I can't say yes or no. But only because I haven't asked but this is Dean we're talking about so the safe bet is on yes."_

That hurts in a way I'm not sure I'm really ready to analyze and because of that, I do my best to keep my disappointment out of my voice. "I see."

Nick, of course, hears it. _"Did you ask him to be faithful?"_

"Was that wrong of me?"

_"Can't say. That's between the two of you. From what I know of Dean he's usually nothing but faithful to someone he's exclusive with."_

"But we're not exactly exclusive. So, was I wrong to ask it of him? I mean after centuries of fucking his Donors, do I really have the right?"

_"The part of me that wants to knock both your heads together wants to say no, you weren't wrong. But the part of me that hates to be tied down says oh, hell, yes."_

I was afraid of that. "What now, Nick?"

_"Go see Gibbs. Listen to what he has to say."_

"Why should I talk to these two men? And don't tell me it's because they were where I am now."

_"Fine. The truth is that Horatio was one of those that never believed, nor didn't believe, in Vampires. He has always told me that just because he never met one didn't prove, or disprove, their existence. And Gibbs, well, Gibbs was just like you. He said that Vampires didn't exist based on the fact that it's scientifically impossible for them to. When Tony finally told him his secret, Gibbs freaked. He didn't run but only because he had nowhere to run to. He did spend a hell of a lot of time on the phone with Horatio, trying to wrap his brain around the fact that his 2IC was a Vampire and that he was said Vampire's Soul Mate."_

"Very well. Where would I be able to find Gibbs? In the morning, of course."

_"He'd be at the Navy Yard since he works for NCIS."_

"NCIS?" I've never actually heard of them but I have a feeling they're crime scene investigators. "He investigates crimes?"

_"Yeah. You'll quickly learn that most Vampires are in some kind of law enforcement. And quite a few Chosen as well, which effectively answers the second part of that question from earlier."_ He gives me the address to the Navy Yard and I put it into the GPS.

"Thanks, Nick." I put the car in drive and ease out into traffic.

_"Any time, Carter. Really. All you have to do is pick up the phone and call."_

"I do have a couple more questions."

_"Ask. I'll answer as honestly as I can."_

"If I make Dean leave, will I be able to change my mind?"

_"No. If you don't decide to let him Turn you now, if you make him walk away, that's it. There is no second chance."_

"What about letting him Turn me but waiting to Bond?"

_"What if you get Dusted before then? Have you heard the story of when I lost Warren?"_

"You destroyed a whole village; men, women, children and animals."

_"And then I burnt their fields and salted the ground so that nothing would be able to grow there."_

"Damn, Nick." I think I'm starting to understand why everyone's pushing me to Turn.

_"Warren was killed because someone I trusted turned traitor and outed me and Warren by association. See, back then it was not only illegal to be a Vampire but to also know a Vampire. I've been told that the first person I killed when I returned to that village was the traitor, followed by every man who participated in Warren's murder. Do you understand why you have to make this decision now?"_

"But he hasn't fed from me."

_"But he has touched you. It's almost as bad. Not to mention the fact that he's gone almost eleven hundred years without his Soul Mate. Other than me, only Daniel Jackson and one other has gone longer. See, Carter, the thing is, the longer you make him wait, the weaker he becomes. Oh, not physically or even mentally; but emotionally. Each day that passes, he becomes my weakest link. Much as I love the boy, I can't have him seen as a weakness for Sylum."_

"Oh, so this is purely selfish on your part, is it?" I try to make it into a joke but I'm not really seeing it that way.

_"Not really. Well, not entirely. I love Dean and want to see him happy, Bonded and settled. I'll admit there are several reasons for this wish: one, it'll help keep him from giving me any more gray hairs. Two, he'll no longer be a pretty target for my enemies. And three, he deserves to finally have everything he desires and right now, that's you, Carter Shaw. I've been around long enough that I can tell this is it for the two of you. If you don't let him Turn you, I don't think you'll get another chance. I truly think he'll find a way to get his ass Dusted if you end this."_

Great. Just what I needed to hear, that my indecision could be leading Dean to thoughts of suicide when he hasn't ever had them before. "I'm still really torn, Nick."

_"I know and I'd love to continue to discuss it with you, but if I don't leave now, I'll be late for work."_

"Alright. Thanks for the answers you did give."

_"Anytime. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything else."_

"I won't, I promise. Now go catch some bad guys." He chuckles at that and we hang up.

Tossing the phone onto the seat next to me, I merge with traffic on the freeway headed out of Miami, feeling slightly unnerved at having the ocean on the wrong side of the road. Setting the cruise control, I turn the radio to a soft jazz station, keeping the volume low enough that I can just hear it so that any news breaks will alert me to turn the volume back up. With that done and with nothing else to do but drive and think, I settle back in my seat and let my mind roam through everything I've learned about Vampires combined with everything I once thought I knew about them.

For as long as I can remember I've had dreams where I was living someone else's life. Until recently I thought they were just the work of an over active imagination. Now, of course, I know they're memories of my past lives. 

I remember the only time I ever told anyone about the dreams. I was five or six and told my mother about a dream I had where I was a fierce warrior who could kill with a casual twist of his wrist. My mother's reaction was to yell at my father for letting me watch a gladiator movie at such a young age. The truth was that I had dreamt I was a Highland warrior but I didn't have the words to tell her that.

As a child my dreams were mostly about my past lives' daily routines. Snapshots of them at work, mostly, and occasional battles from the lives where I was a soldier, but as I got older they began to include scenes of their sex lives as well. I never figured out I had been a woman twice, not even when the other person was a man; I've known since puberty that I like both men and women. But my dreams of Dean were always different.

For the most part the visions of Dean were from afar and so the feelings of longing and love that flooded my gut whenever I saw him made me think I was a woman who was in love with a man I had no chance of being with. It wasn't until after Dean and I met that I first dreamt of Adair and Dean fucking. In fact, it was the very night after Dean came to my office to demand I hire him for my team that I dreamt of the first time Adair fucked Dean.

I now know it happened the night after Dean's first kill in his first true battle. Dean was grooming his horse and Adair entered the stall and pushed him face first over a stack of hay bales. Adair didn't say a word, just lifted his léine and proceeded to fuck him raw. After he pulled out, he wiped some of his come mixed with Dean's blood on Dean's cheeks before stalking away, again without a single word.

For years I thought Adair blamed his obsession with Dean on Dean himself, and therefore hated Dean and that that was why he raped him, although rape wasn't a word that was used back in those days in regards to what Adair did to Dean. It wasn't until the night Dean told me he's a Vampire that I had a dream about the last time Dean and Adair fucked. The love that flooded me as I looked into Dean's eyes from Adair's prospective told me that Adair didn't become Dean's first male lover out of hate or anger but out of a love he had no clue how to express.

I drive until my stomach demands I fill it and so begin scanning the roadside looking for a hotel, preferably one with a restaurant attached. I eventually find a Howard Johnson's and pull off the freeway and into the parking lot.

I pay for a room for the night, then head into the restaurant. A bored looking teenager escorts me to a table near the back and all but throws the menu at me before marching away. With a rueful shake of my head at the manners of young people today, which for a moment makes me feel like a crotchety old man before I dismiss that thought with a snort, I open the sticky plastic covered menu and try to figure out what I want to eat.

"Hi!" A perky voice startles me out of my contemplation of the food on offer. "My name's Ada, and I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink to start?"

I blink up at the face of a woman who is probably in her fifties but looks twenty years younger. She has a smile that's contagious and before I know it, I'm smiling back. "Cup of decaf, please."

"If you're passing through, might better make that regular," she suggests with a pointed looked out the window where the sun is quickly sinking behind the horizon.

With a chuckle I shake my head. "I'm stopping for the night. Only asked for the coffee because it smells good."

"Oh, it is!" she gushes. I bet she gets a ton of tips. "You ready to order or do you need a few more?"

"What's good here? Other than the coffee, that is."

We share a laugh at my joke. "The burgers and French toast."

"Hm. Not in the mood for breakfast for dinner," I murmur. "I'll take the burger," I decide, handing her the menu.

"One burger," she repeats, writing it on her order pad. "Fries?" I nod. "What would you like on it?"

"Everything."

"Cheese?" When I nod again, her grin gets wider. "You're starting to drool," she explains before I can ask what's so funny. "Are we hungry?" she asks just as my stomach protests its empty status, which has her chuckling at me. "I'll take that as a yes. How'd you like that cooked?"

"Medium."

"Okay. I got one cheeseburger with everything, medium with a side of fries and a cup of decaf. Anything else?"

"No ma'am. That'll be all for now."

"Alrighty, then. I'll be right back with that coffee." She winks before turning and walking away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Ada is one of those waitresses who are excellent at her job. She manages to deliver my coffee without disturbing me too much. Likewise, when she delivers my burger, I didn't even have to stop the stream of consciousness rolling through my head.

As soon as I'm alone with my meal, I lean over and inhale deeply, closing my eyes in bliss at the mouthwatering smell of the food before me. Picking up a fry, I wonder idly if Dean is able to drool or if, like with sweating, it's something Vampires can no longer do. Hard on the heels of that thought is the memory of a night a few weeks ago; Dean had just finished an op that required him to live in the target's pocket and left him with almost no time to check in, much less get away for a face-to-face. I had spent the weeks of our separation at his place, and when I stepped from the shower this one night, Dean was leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, leering at me with his fangs fully extended and I'm nearly positive that he was drooling. _Guess I'll find out for sure once I Turn._ If _I Turn, that is._

I shake my head at myself. Why am I fighting this? It's what Dean wants. It's what I want, if I'm honest with myself. So why am I so hesitant to seal my life with his? Is all this agony really worth the worry I'm putting him through?

I munch my fries and burger, grunting my thanks when Ada refills my coffee, totally lost in my thoughts.

Nick says I have to make a decision, soon, or Dean will become a weakness that Sylum enemies will try and exploit to get to Nick. I cannot allow that to happen. It's not fair to Nick or Dean or anyone else within the Clan. They've all been through so much lately that to allow another traitor an opening in the shape of Dean is beyond cruel.

"Must be some hell of a problem." Ada's mirth filled voice manages to break through my musings.

"Hm?" I hum up at her, blinking at her smiling face where she's hovering nearby.

"I've been asking for the past several minutes if you'd like dessert or if you're ready for your check."

"Oh!" I give a huff of humorless laughter. "It's nothing really. Just happens sometimes when I'm alone."

"If you say so. So, check or dessert?"

I can tell she doesn't believe that my problem is nothing but she's a complete stranger. "Check, please."

"There ya go." She whips the bill out of her apron pocket and lays it gently on the table at my left elbow. "Enjoy your stay!" She turns on her heel with military precision, and I watch her head over to a table on the other side of the room and take the order of the young family of four, two of whom are under the age of five, that's sitting there.

Slipping enough money to give Ada a very generous tip onto the table, I rise from my chair and make my way to the cash register where I'm greeted by the same bored teenager that lead me to my seat earlier. I hand her the bill along with the cash to pay. She doesn't speak a word to me as she takes my money and hands me my change. I smile at her to try and get her to respond but all she does is stare stupidly at me. _At least she's not chomping on some gum._

"Thank you," I say pointedly.

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbles back.

"Have a nice night." I make one last attempt to get some kind of response other than that of a bored teenager. Her only response is a glare and a grunted 'yeah'. With a sigh I exit the restaurant and head to my room.

Once in my room, I drop my duffle on the little table just inside the room, then turn to secure the door using the hotel's security measures before pulling some items from my bag to make the door extra secure. I then strip the comforter and blanket from the bed and then stretch out on top of the sheets still fully clothed, fighting the urge to pull my cell phone out of my pocket and reread Dean's text messages.

Dean's texts range from g to triple x. I'm not sure which surprise me most. The man does seem to love making me blush, after all.

I lose my internal battle with myself and pull my cell from my pocket. Placing it on the table, I roll from the bed and remove all my clothes, then toss back the top sheet before laying back down.

Picking up my cell, I scroll through my texts until I find the ones I want while fondling myself. The raunchiest of his texts describes in great detail what he'd love to do to me on a near constant basis. My favorite texts where sent at the most inopportune times, usually while I was in a meeting with Maynard or when Ty was standing over my desk discussing something. When they'd arrive during the latter situation, I would look over at Dean and find him engrossed in conversation with Jaimie, not looking at his phone and, more often than not, typing one handed. What makes that last one even more surprising is he doesn't have a full keyboard on his phone.

While scrolling through my texts, I come across one of Dean's tamer messages where he describes how much he cares for me and how he can't wait until we can be alone, and it effectively kills the mood much like a bucket of ice water. Setting my phone back on the table, I roll from the bed again. Pulling on my boxers I pace the tiny room, my hands fisted in my hair as I try and come to terms with the fact that I have to either let Dean kill me or force him into walking away.

Knowing what I do about Dean, I know that forcing him to do _anything_ he doesn't want to will not be easy and forcing him to walk away from me, well, that'll be damn near impossible. Not to mention heartbreaking on both our parts.

"Why is this so blasted difficult?" I wonder out loud. 

_Surely there's some way of making it easier._ That thought sparks another and soon I'm digging through drawers until I locate a pad of paper and a pen.

Sitting down at the table, I draw a line down the center of the paper and another horizontally about an inch from the top. On one side of the center line I write 'Pros' and on the other I write 'Cons'. Under the pro column I write: never get sick again, never die, be with Dean forever and see all the scientific discoveries of the future. Under the con column I write: can die if someone cuts off Dean's head, Dean has to watch me die for the third time, Dean has to kill me. _So, I have to die before I can live forever._ Thanks for nothing, Universe.

I know what I have to do, now, but still want to talk to Gibbs before I actually make my decision.

Having that settled in my mind, I crawl onto the bed and settle on my right side and fall into a fitful sleep.

For the first time in a long time, I have a new dream. Of all my lives I know very little about the two after Adair. I can tell within minutes that this dream is about one of those two lives.

 

The cell is dark and stinks of human refuse. The despair I've felt since I was thrown in here three days ago has only increased. I find I can't stay still any longer and so jump up and rush the door. Three days ago I was tried and convicted of adultery with the Lord Mayor's wife because I dared to touch her with my filthy hands when she tripped in the street. My hands hadn't been all _that_ dirty at the time. Hell, I didn't even leave a smudge on her pretty pink dress. 

"I didn't do anything!" I scream for what feels like the thousandth time, rattling the bars of my cell, tears of anguish streaming down my cheeks. "I didn't do anything wrong." A sob escapes.

I'm never going to see my family again. Never watch my children grow up, hold my wife in my arms, make sure my sisters are well placed. My shoulders shake with the force of my silent sobs and I rest my forehead against the bars.

A guard appears and begins hitting my fingers with his baton, growling, "Back! I said back!" the whole time. As soon as I step back he pulls out a key and unlocks the door while replacing his baton in its loop on his belt. He pulls a pair of handcuffs from the other side of his belt while stepping forward and motioning with his finger for me to turn around. I do as instructed, and stand there placidly as he places the handcuffs around my wrists.

"Sire, please!" I beg looking over my shoulder as the guard secures the cuffs. "I didn't do anything!"

"The Lord Mayor's wife begs to disagree." Actually that's wrong, she defended me but for whatever reason her husband found me to be a threat and so decided to have me killed.

The guard pulls me from the cell and it isn't until we're almost to the outer door that I realize I'm only wearing a loincloth. While no one truly cares about nudity, it will shame my family to see me dressed thus. "Please!" I beg again. "I have a family!"

"Should have thought of that before you touched the Lord Mayor's wife," he growls, tugging on my arm and pulling me off balance.

"At least let me put on a shift!" I dig in my heels. I refuse to leave this building in this state of undress.

"Lord Mayor didn't say anything about letting you dress."

"Please, think of my family and the shame they'll experience seeing me marched through the streets dress thusly!"

"Should have…" he begins.

"Should have thought of that before, I know," I grumble, still dragging my feet. "I wish I was a vampire!" I yell causing the man to glance sharply at me. "Cause then I could get away from you and kill you for this."

"You broke the law, not me. I'm just carrying out the sentence the Lord Mayor handed down."

Once we're outside, a commotion just out of sight draws my guard's attention and allows me to slip from his grasp. I run as fast as I can with my hands tied behind me. I turn a corner and suddenly I'm tripping over my feet right into the arms of a complete stranger. I didn't see him or the rock I tripped over, because I'm looking over my shoulder trying to keep away from the guards. The stranger sets me back on my feet, his hands wrapped around my bare shoulders.

A sizzle skirts across my nerve endings at the contact, causing me to look up sharply. Our eyes meet, and I swallow a gasp of recognition. How I know him, I have no clue. I've never laid eyes on him before and yet, I know him. A name comes to mind and before I'm even aware of it, it slips past my lips in a desperate whisper, "Dean."

Before he can do more than blink at me, the guards come tearing around the corner behind me, shouting in glee when they see me. "Please, sir. Don't let them take me! I'm innocent, I swear it!" I beg of the stranger, pleading with my eyes for him to believe me.

"Step away from him!" one of the guards orders. I can feel the tip of a small one-handed crossbow pointed at my head.

"What has he done?" the stranger asks, still staring into my eyes.

"That's none of your concern, sir." And damn if they aren't right.

"Please, sir. I didn't do anything!" I try one last time to get him to help me.

"Didn't do anything?" another of the guards demands, stepping up behind me and smacking me behind the knees causing me to sag against the stranger. "You were caught in a compromising position with the Lord Mayor's wife!"

"She tripped! All I did was catch her so she wouldn't harm herself!" My eyes are wide with fear. "Please!" I whisper, tears starting to fall. "They're going to kill me and I have a lot of mouths to feed."

"Should have thought of that before," the guard who struck me says, wrapping his hand around my upper arm and pulling me from the stranger's grasp.

His brows lower in a frown as he realizes that I'm about to be executed. "Was he given a trial of any kind? Allowed to plead his side of things?"

A third guard pushes him back. "Stay out of things that don't concern you, stranger," he growls, all three of them turning and walking away, dragging me behind them. 

Just before we turn the corner, I look back at the stranger and shout his name. I can see tears in his eyes but he only shakes his head and follows to see where they're taking me.

A few feet past the corner is a square and in the center is a platform upon which rests a bloody tree stump and a man wearing a mask and holding a battle axe. I'm forced to climb the stairs to the platform, keeping eye contact with Dean for as long as I can, and then I'm shoved down onto my knees in front of the stump. When I give one last fight for my life, my arms are pulled out to my sides forcing me to lean down. When my head touches the stump, I sense the axe man raise his axe and begin to twist my head from side to side. One of the soldiers climbs the platform to tie my head to the stump. When he steps back the executioner again raises his axe and lets it fall, and that's the last thing I remember along with the screams of my wife and children.

 

I wake with a gasp, sitting upright in bed, my hands grasping frantically at my neck. This dream was about the life _right_ after Adair. Well, maybe the words 'right after' aren't quite right. But it was the next life after Adair's death. I'm not sure how many years had passed between the two because I don't know what year it was when Adair died, nor do I know what year Marcus was born. I'd have to ask Dean but he shies away from talking about Adair.

This dream brings the grand total of memories I have of Marcus to five. The other life I lived between Marcus and my current one, well, let's just say I don't even know his name. And I only know he was male because the man in the _three_ memories I have of that one called him either 'Pet' or 'Boy'.

I swing my legs around until I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. I felt that axe strike my neck, _felt_ it chop off my head. I know that memories can be that intense at times but this one has left me shaking. Not since the dream of Adair's death have I felt such pain.

Scrubbing my hands down my face, I notice that there is light outside the window. A quick glance at my phone shows it's after seven so I decide to go ahead and begin my day.

Grabbing some clean clothes from my duffle, I head into the bathroom and make quick work of washing my body. I now understand why Dean keeps his head shaved. A shaved head makes it so much easier to take a quick shower. After brushing my teeth, I make sure I have my keys, phone and wallet before leaving my room, tossing my bag into the car and heading to the restaurant for breakfast.

This morning, the bored teen is male and actually gives a half-heart 'morning' before leading me to the same table I sat at last night. I don't expect to see Ada, since it was rather late when I arrived after all, and so it's with some surprise that I see her approaching my table.

A big smile splits her face when she sees me. "Morning! You don't look quite so wild around the eyes." She makes circles in front of her face with one finger. "Sleep well?"

"Not really," I respond with a sigh.

She frowns. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

I shrug. "I don't normally sleep well away from home." And Dean.

"Hopefully your trip isn't a long one, then." She smiles again. "Ya here for some of that French toast I told ya about last night?"

"I am." I hand over the menu. "And a cup of regular. Oh, and speaking of last night," I call her back when she turns to go place my order. "Do you live here or something? I mean it was really late when I arrived and it's pretty early now."

"Well-" She clears her throat. "There are only three of us on staff and the other two are off having a baby. Plus, I don't need as much sleep as I used to. So…" She gives a one-shouldered shrug.

"You don't need as much sleep? How is that?" I don't know what I'm expecting but it certainly isn't having her casually open her mouth and extend a set of fangs. "You're a Vampire?" _How many are there?_

"Does it bother you?"

I shake my head. "No. I recently discovered someone close to me is a Vamp. Just surprised, is all."

"Why? Do you think all Vampires have enough money they don't need to work anymore? Or that they have the skills to not have to work at a blue collar job?"

I sit back in my seat, trying to get away from her growing rage, and raise my hands, palms out. "Whoa! I happen to know several Vampires who are cops and EMTs. I admit I've never met one who worked at a restaurant but that's not what I'm surprised about."

She visibly deflates. "Sorry. Haven't ever told a stranger before."

"It's fine." I give a small smile, trying to show that there are no hard feelings.

"How about I go fill your order and then come back and we'll talk, hm?"

"Sure."

When she walks back to the kitchen to place my order, I turn and stare out the window wondering just how many of the people milling about are Vampires. Surely the Vampire population isn't greater than the Human one, but one can never tell for sure, which is part of the reason for the Registration Act. It's the government's way of trying to control the growing Vampire population. They tried to enforce a punishment for Turning a Human but that was defeated because of the fact that a Vampire must be Bonded to be at full strength and to do that, a Vampire _must_ Turn their Soul Mate. The government settled on the Registration Act and setting a hefty fine for Turning Without Consent. Although from what I can tell, most Clans have their own punishment for that, not to mention the Council does ultimately punish a Vampire who is accused of Turning a Human without that Human's consent.

A few minutes later, Ada returns with a cup of coffee and takes the seat across from me. She stacks her hands on top of the table and leans forward. "Would you like to hear my story?"

I take a sip of my coffee and say "Sure" once I've replaced it on the saucer.

"Okay." She glances around, then begins her tale. "It happened one night twenty years ago as I was walking home from the club where I worked. A man grabbed me from behind. I expected to be raped because the area was deemed free of Vampires. He must have been young or one of those Vampires that don't care about their Donors because he didn't try to make me think he was doing anything other than what he truly was. The pain was intense, I'd never been fed from before but I knew within a few minutes that something wasn't right." She pauses, drops her eyes to the table and lifts one hand to her neck. "I was beginning to feel lightheaded, but I was still lucid enough to notice another man knock that monster off me. At first I thought they were going to fight over me like two lions over a kill but the first man just ran off. The second man came back to where I was still lying and spoke soothingly to me, telling me I was going to be fine and asking if I wanted to live." She looks up at me. "Of course I wanted to live. So he bit his wrist and forced me to drink. When I woke up, I was in my own bed and I thought it had all been a dream." She pauses and looks over her shoulder. "I'll be right back," she says when she sees that my French toast is ready.

When she brings the plate back to the table, she sets it in front of me and resumes her place across the table. "Who was the Vampire who saved you?" I have my suspicions but I need to hear her say it.

"Tim Speedle."

I nod. It's as I thought. "So have you been lucky enough to find your Mate yet?"

"Oh, yes!" She brightens at my question. "After I woke, Tim explained what happened and then left me and my husband alone. Turns out that Landon believed in Vampires, even knew a few, and so he had no problem with my suddenly becoming one. He reached out and ran one finger down my cheek. We both jumped at the static shock; our apartment has solid wood floors and so there was no carpet for him to have built up a charge on." She drops her eyes to the table top again. "Landon called Tim back into the room and asked what it meant. Tim explained it meant we were Soul Mates." She sits back in her chair. "You need more coffee?" When I shake my head, one corner of her mouth lifts in a tiny smile. "Well, Tim took us off to Sylum Manor and we began our education into all things Vampire. Landon and I began planning his Turning. It'll be nineteen years since Landon and I Bonded next week."

Stabbing the last bite of French toast with my fork, I sweep it around the plate to collect the last of the maple syrup and pop it in my mouth. Chewing slowly, I sit back in my chair and cradle the coffee cup in my hands. "So why'd you wait a year to Turn your husband?"

"We wanted his Turning to coincide with our wedding anniversary and we had just celebrated it two days before I was attacked."

"I see." I take a sip.

"Need more?" she nods at the cup in my hands. I hand it over with a smile. She gets up and returns with the pot, pouring some into the cup before retaking her seat. "So, was my story helpful for you?"

"In a way, yes." She just raises one eyebrow. "Remember when I told you I recently found out someone close to me is a Vampire?" She nods. "Well, not only did I find out he's a Vampire, but that I'm his Soul Mate. I've had a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he's going to have to kill me in order to Turn me and for us to Bond."

"And have you?"

"Come to terms with it?" When she nods again, I shrug and lean forward to rest my arms on the table. "I think so, yeah."

"So, are you headed home, now?" She gets up from the table, pulling a rag from her apron pocket and wiping the table.

"Not yet. I have someone I need to see in DC first."

"Fair enough. Can I get you anything else?"

"Nope, just the check." She slips the ticket onto the table and smiles before turning and walking away.

This time when I go to pay, I don't try to engage the bored teenager in conversation, just hand over my money and walk away.

Once on the freeway, I set the cruise control and let my mind wander to what it might be like to be fed from. Will it hurt? Will Dean make sure it doesn't? What will it be like to Bond with him?

Of course these are questions I won't be able to answer until I return to LA, unless I can convince Gibbs or his Mate to feed from me while I'm in DC. As if I could think of a more awkward question to ask, and along those lines I can't help wondering what Dean would think if I told him that he wouldn't be the first Vampire to bite me. I've already asked Dean to not sleep with his donors, so the shoe being on the other foot just doesn't sit right with me. I _would_ like to know, though.

I enter DC limits just after sundown and find a hotel near the Navy Yard after hitting a drive-thru for dinner. When I get to my room, I turn my cell off and pointedly ignore the temptation to read Dean's messages again. I'll be seeing him in a day or two, I can wait. Instead I go straight to bed. During the night, if I dreamt I don't remember it but that doesn't mean my sleep was peaceful, just dreamless.

The next morning finds me grumpy and irritable, which isn't helped by the drive to the Navy Yard, which is an exercise in frustration. And here I thought driving in downtown LA was confusing. 

At the yard, I enter the NCIS building and approach the security checkpoint. I pull my badge from my pocket and flip it open to show the guards. "Lieutenant Carter Shaw to see Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

One guard, who looks like he used to play pro ball, takes my ID and examines it while another tells me to empty my pockets into one bucket and place my weapons in another before stepping through the metal detector. I do as instructed and once on the other side I'm given my badge back along with the contents of my pockets. My guns, however, are locked in what appears to be a safety deposit box and I'm told I'll get them back when I leave; not that I'll need them here.

After signing the visitor's log and clipping the badge to my jacket, a guard escorts me to the elevator. He presses the button for the correct floor and wishes me luck. I'm getting the feeling that Gibbs has something of a reputation for being a hardass.

When the doors to the elevator open, I'm surprised at the openness of the area. While it's not as airy as the Miami crime lab, it's not as closed off as the station in LA. The walls are painted orange on the lower half and gray on top but it works somehow. The carpet is tan in color, which doesn't seem as off-putting as one would expect. The desks are not right next to each other nor are they separated by cubicle walls. There are walls separating sections of the room, separate areas for the different teams, perhaps?

Before I can even step from the elevator a man just a few years younger than me approaches. "Lieutenant Shaw?" he asks, holding out his hand.

I look him up and down trying to figure out if he's Gibbs or Gibbs' Mate, Tony. He's about two inches taller than me with brown hair that looks like someone was running their fingers through it and aristocratic features that have me pegging him as Anthony DiNozzo, born Antonio Crisafi. "That's me. Special Agent DiNozzo?" I reply, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He gives me a grin that probably has women, and quite a few men, falling all over themselves to get into his pants. "That's me. So, what brings you all the way from LA to our nation's capitol?" He turns and with a flick of his hand over his shoulder, beckons me to follow him.

"Did Nick not call you?" I frown at the back of his head. From what Dean's told me about this man, he's supposed to be a pompous jackass who thinks anyone not of noble blood is beneath him. But then again several centuries have passed since he was Turned so maybe he learned humility somewhere along the way.

"He did but I wanted to hear it from you." He props one hip against a desk that has an unobstructed view of not only the elevator but also the rest of the room.

"No need for him to repeat what Nick's already told us, DiNozzo," a voice grunts from out of nowhere, and before I can be surprised, an older man slaps the back of Tony's head.

Tony winces but I can tell it wasn't hard enough to really hurt and gives me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Lieutenant. Just wanted confirmation that Dean has _finally_ found his Mate."

"You'll be glad to hear that he has. And you must be Agent Gibbs." I turn to the silver haired man sipping from a to-go cup of coffee from a local coffee house. These two couldn't be further from the pictures I had of them if them if they tried.

"Call me Jethro," he says, offering his hand.

"Carter," I respond, giving his hand a squeeze.

"You can call me Tony!" Gibbs and I both turn to look at the young man sitting on the desk. Gibbs just grunts before stepping around me and with a flick of his head tells me to follow him.

Tony grins at me before I turn to follow Gibbs from the room.

"Thought I'd give you a brief tour," he says when I catch up with him. Sounds reasonable but not necessary in my opinion. "So tell me exactly why Nick sent you to talk to me."

"Well, according to him you were where I am not that long ago."

He turns to smile at me. "So you didn't believe until you found out someone close to you is one?" I nod. "I gotta tell ya it was a shock to discover that Tony's a Vampire. He doesn't act like one would expect for someone as old as he is. It took me a while to come to terms with not only him being a Vamp but my being his Soul Mate. All my adult life I thought I had found my Soul Mate in my late wife but then I find out my true Mate is some kid who likes to talk about all the women he's bedded? It didn't make any sense to me. I have to admit the past four years have been interesting. I wish I could say it was perfect but that would be a lie."

"I've been told that Bonding is just like a marriage. I've been married so I know it's not always a bed of roses."

"Exactly. And being Bonded to a member of Sylum is even more difficult; more so when they're a member of the ruling council of the Clan."

"Yeah, well, Dean's not even a member so…" I trail off with a shrug.

Gibbs laughs. "I have a feeling that being Bonded to Dean's going to be even more difficult. That man refuses to accept help from anyone."

"Don't I know it," I mutter making Gibbs chuckle again.

"And you're right about Bonding being a lot like marriage. In fact the Bond is more binding than a Human marriage. A Mate has more power than even parents."

Ah, honest and unbiased answers at last. I find myself liking Gibbs, and I wonder, "So what happens if a Vampire meets his Soul Mate and that Mate is still Human and married?"

"If the marriage is already on the rocks then the Human can be Turned and they can Bond. If the marriage is solid the Vampire will wait for the Human to die and be reborn." Gibbs shrugs. "At least, that's how they're supposed to play it. Every now and then one will butt in, but usually they're pretty good at waiting."

I nod thoughtfully. "I can see that being a problem if the Human is aware that they're not married to their Soul Mate. I mean, I'm not sure I'd've been willing to make Dean wait for me to be reborn if Nicole and I'd had a solid marriage." We walk in silence for a second or two and then I realize something. "Wait. You said that a Mate has more power so why would a Vampire allow his Mate to remain married?"

"Usually the Human isn't aware that they're not married to their Soul Mate so it's not a hardship for the Vampire to allow them to honor the contract they made with another Human."

"And if the Human _is_ aware?"

"As far as I know it's never come up. In all the cases I'm aware of, the Human was not aware that their spouse wasn't their Soul Mate."

"And if a Vampire discovers their Soul Mate is a minor?"

Gibbs takes a sip of his coffee. "If that happens, the parents will usually turn guardianship over to the Vampire while retaining custody."

I lift both eyebrows. "That sounds… awkward."

Gibbs nods like he understands exactly what I'm thinking. "And it can be. But as far as I know it's only happened twice. The Vampires in question ended up moving near the family and began 'courting' their Mate once they became old enough that it wouldn't be considered statutory rape."

"So this doesn't happen often?"

"Not really, no." We turn a corner and I'm blasted by loud rock music. When we enter a lab, I see a young woman in platform boots and a lab coat over her mini skirt with her black hair in pigtails that bounce in time to the music as she dances in place. "Abby!" Gibbs calls and the woman spins, a bright smile breaking over her face upon seeing him.

"Gibbs!" she cries, flinging herself into his arms, and then her eyebrows furrow. "Wait, we don't have a current case." She steps back and frowns at him.

"I know." He grins and kisses her cheek. "Turn it down." Her frown deepens but she does as he asks. "Thank you." He takes a final sip of his coffee and drops it into a trash can. "Now, the reason for my visit is to introduce you to Lieutenant Carter Shaw, LAPD. Carter, Abigail Sciuto, our forensic scientist."

"Hi!" Abby offers her hand, which I take and give a squeeze. "So, what brings a Lieutenant from LAPD all the way to DC?"

"I have a decision to make and was told to speak with Agent Gibbs."

Her face lights up. "What kind of decision?"

"Exactly the kind you're thinking of," Gibbs replies.

"Yeah?" She turns interested eyes to me.

I turn to look at Gibbs. "She's in the know?"

"More than in the know," Abby sniffs. "I happen to be the reincarnated soul of one of Nick's daughters."

"Really?" I wonder if I'm supposed to be showing her a little more respect in that case, but it's hard to even contemplate when she nods so hard her pigtails whip around her head. "Who has the soul of the others?"

Abby and Gibbs share a look and a chuckle. "Tony!" they say in unison.

"Is that so?"

Abby nods, then clears her throat. "Enough of that. What exactly is this decision you have to make?"

Now it's _my_ turn to share a look with Gibbs. "I have to decide whether or not to let Dean Turn me."

Her frown returns. "Dean? As in Dean McGillis?" I nod and she jumps up and down, clapping her hands in glee. "It's about time he found you."

"He happens to agree with you." All three of us chuckle, but when the mirth dies down I notice Abby giving me a look like she'd enjoy nothing more than to lock me in a small room and demand I tell her everything.

Thankfully Gibbs saves me, by way of announcing, "We have more to the tour, Carter." 

Abby pouts a bit. "It was nice meeting you." She extends her hand and I give it another brief squeeze before following Gibbs from the room.

Our next stop is the morgue. When we enter the room an older gentleman, bent over a corpse, looks up and says, "This young man does not belong to you, Jethro."

"I know, Duck. I'm giving a tour to a colleague from LAPD." Gibbs stops a few feet from the autopsy table. "Lieutenant Carter Shaw, Dr. Donald Mallard, our medical examiner." He waves a hand between us while making the introductions.

"Please call me Carter," I say, lifting my hand in greeting since I can't shake hands.

"Ducky, please," he responds. "And not to be rude, but I really must finish."

"Of course, Ducky." Gibbs steps back and prepares to turn and leave the room. "We'll leave you to it."

Back in the bullpen, Gibbs stops at his desk. "Why don't you go on over to my house and get settled." He scribbles his address on a piece of paper and hands it to me.

It almost sounds like an order, but since this is a man accustomed to a life of taking and giving orders, I don't object outright but instead try to disagree another way, namely the hassles of logistics. "I'm already checked into a hotel not far from here."

Gibbs bulldozes that and any other protests with a single lifted eyebrow. "So check out. You're practically family. We have a perfectly good guest room. And I'm sure Nick would not be happy to hear I let you stay in a hotel."

"If you insist," I state, taking the paper with his address. I don't know the area so I'm not sure if I should be impressed or not.

"I should be home early evening. Tony may or may not beat me home; depends on if we get a case between now and then."

I nod my understanding. "Thank you, Jethro."

"Don't mention it. Just make yourself at home. The guest room is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs."

"Got it." I shake his hand and head to the elevator.

"Hey, Carter!" Tony comes jogging up and just barely slides into the elevator before the doors close.

"Agent DiNozzo." From everything I've been told of this man and how he's treated Dean in the past, I'm not sure I want to be alone in an elevator with him. It feels a lot like not wanting to share a room with whichever member of Internal Affairs hates me most at the moment.

The elevator has barely started its trip to the lobby when he reaches out and hits the stop button and turns to face me. The upbeat, easygoing grin is gone and for the moment he actually looks serious. "I'm pretty sure I know what Dean's told you about me, and you have to know I'm not like that anymore." He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up even more. "I've tried to apologize to him but he's refusing to listen."

"And you expect me to do…what, exactly?" I cross my arms over my chest, settle my weight on one foot and tilt my head.

He tucks his hands in his pockets and looks down at the floor. "I thought that maybe you could…" he trails off with a shrug and looks up at me through his lashes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"You want me to tell him you're a changed man? Is that it?"

His face brightens. "Yes! If you would? That'd be great!"

"And why would I do that? I don't know you."

His shoulders slump and his face falls. "Look, Lieutenant, I was just a young man when we met. All my life, even when I was a Templar knight, I had everything I wanted handed to me on a silver platter. I was arrogant and thought I was better than almost everyone because I was born a Crisafi and was accepted into the Templars. I had just escaped from a Turkish prison when I met Dean and was almost positive he was trying to pick my pocket. It wasn't until later that I realized he was just trying to assist me."

"That doesn't explain how you've treated him since then."

"So he's told you about me." I can't tell if he's insulted or not.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." I can't decide if I should tell him more or not. For some reason it feels like a betrayal if I do.

He gives a sad nod. "I understand. Can't say I like it, but I understand. Your loyalty is to him, so why should you even consider doing this for me?"

I laugh out loud at how he's turning that logic into a despondent plea. "Your trying to guilt me into doing you an unpleasant favor isn't going to work. I come from nobility, too." 

He gives a self-depreciating smirk. "Had to give it a try, don'tcha know?"

"Of course." With a pointed look, I ask him to start the elevator again. "I'll be here until at least tomorrow, so if you can prove to me between now and then that you're not the man Dean's told me about, I'll think about telling him you're sorry."

He turns and flips the switch to get the elevator moving again. "That's more than acceptable. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Agent. I haven't promised anything."

"Oh, but you have. You've promised to give me a chance to prove I've changed."

"I suppose I have." I don't get a chance to say anything more because the doors open onto the lobby at that moment.

Tony turns to me and holds out his hand. I take it and give it a tighter squeeze than normal. He responds with a cheerful, "See ya later. If there's anything you'd like to eat that's not currently in the house, call me and I'll pick it up on my way home."

"Will do," I respond, stepping from the elevator. "Thank Agent Gibbs for the tour, would you?"

"Absolutely. Did he give you directions?"

"Gave me the address. The rental car has a GPS."

"Very well," he says with a final wave of his hand as the doors close, leaving me alone in the lobby save the security guards on duty.

After getting my guns back from security, I head back to the hotel where I collect my belongings and check out, then head to Gibbs' house. As I drive, I decide that I should definitely be impressed with his address. I don't know much about the DC area, but it would appear that Alexandria is a very fashionable area to live. The suburb is nice and fairly quiet, on the more affluent side of middle class but without being snobby, as I can tell from the young teenager operating a nice-looking riding mower a few houses down. If this neighborhood was a little less well-off, that kid would probably be pushing a banged-up old push mower. More money in the equation, and the person doing the mowing would probably look like he didn't live on this side of town.

The modest, well-maintained two-story house I pull up in front of has me wondering if Gibbs owned it when he was married or if he purchased it once he Bonded with Tony. Parking the car at the curb, so as not to block the drive for when Gibbs and Tony return home, I climb from the car and then realize Gibbs didn't give me a key. With a grumble, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the number on the business card that Gibbs scribbled his address on. _"Gibbs,"_ he answers on the third ring.

"Jethro, it's Carter." I tuck my free hand in the front pocket of my jeans and lean back against the hood of the car, squinting against the bright sunlight.

_"What can I do for you, Carter?"_ He sounds distracted. 

_Damn. He must have gotten a call and is at a scene._ "I'm at your house and just realized you didn't give me a key."

_"Don't need one. I don't lock the door."_

Either I've lived in LA too long or there is something seriously wrong with this man, because I can't help sputtering a little when I ask, "Isn't that a bit dangerous? I mean, anyone can just walk right in and take your stuff."

_"Don't have anything worth stealing. Well, at last as far as any crook casing the house can tell. The most expensive stuff came with Tony and is tucked upstairs in the master bedroom."_ There's the sound of something covering the mouth piece of the phone. _"Look, Carter, I really can't talk right now. Just go inside and make yourself at home. Tony or I will be home in a few hours. If you get hungry and don't like what's in the pantry, there's a drawer filled with take-out menus."_

"Okay. Thanks, Jethro," I say but I'm fairly sure he didn't hear me since I'm almost positive he hung up after telling me about the take-out menus.

Grabbing my bag from the car, I head up the walk and hesitate only a second or two before turning the knob and opening the door. It's obvious the neighborhood Gibbs lives in is one of the nicer ones but still, the cop in me rebels at leaving the house unsecure with no one home.

Entering the house, I find myself in a tiny little foyer with stairs along the right wall that end just steps from the front door. Along the left wall is a set of double doors that are open to reveal a sparsely furnished living room. I decide to dump my bag in the guest room before giving myself the ten cent tour.

At the top of the stairs, I find the guest room right where Gibbs said it would be, not that I thought he'd lie about something like that. I push open the door to the first room on the right and step inside, noticing the impersonal furnishings; the bed is a standard double from IKEA (or so it appears at first glance) with two matching night tables flanking it, a lamp on each. In the corner facing the door and next to the large window overlooking the side yard is an overstuffed arm chair that looks like it'd be very comfortable to curl up in with a good book.

The second door on the right opens to what appears to have at one time been a little girl's room. I barely register the pink walls and frilly bedspread, before closing the door feeling like I've glimpsed a part of Gibbs' past that he doesn't share often with others.

The room across the hall is the master bedroom and one look tells the story of the two men who live in this house. The bed that takes up most of the room is an oversized king four-poster with matching night tables. It's plain which side of the bed belongs to whom; on the table closest to the door is a stack of crime novels and books about woodworking and on the other is a stack of glossy magazines and DVDs. On the wall right next to the door is a top of the line flat screen with an equally as expensive DVD player on a stand under it.

Closing the door to that room, I go in search of the bathroom so I'm not stumbling around in the dark should I wake up during the night. After opening a couple of linen closets (who needs more than one in a hallway?), I find the bathroom at the end of the hall. And it's everything a guest bathroom should be: tiny with a single cabinet sink, toilet and shower/bathtub combo. The shower curtain surprises me a bit and makes it obvious Gibbs doesn't come in here very often anymore, since the curtain is pink and has pictures of Disney princesses on it. Guess Tony hasn't gotten around to getting Gibbs to replace it. The only other thing about the bathroom that is unexpected is the mirror. Instead of having a wall mirror over the sink with a medicine cabinet on the side wall it has a medicine cabinet mirror over the sink. A quick peek inside shows it stocked with travel sized tooth paste, toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner and body wash as well as other things one expects in a medicine cabinet.

My stomach rumbles a bit and I realize it's getting close to lunch time so I head back downstairs. I can see the kitchen through the living room and head in that direction. 

It's obvious Tony and Gibbs don't spend much time in this part of the house. The couch sitting under the picture window looking out on the front lawn has definitely seen better days and appears to have been made in the 1970s. Across from the couch is a stone fireplace and next to that is a TV from the 50s perched on a TV tray from the same era. "I bet that TV's black and white," I mutter to myself as I continue through the room. The dining room is just as devoid of personal effects as the living room was. The dining table appears to be from the same decade as the couch and only seats four. 

The kitchen on the other hand shows that someone in the house likes to cook. While the appliances are not state of the art, they are much more modern than the rest of the house and are gleaming stainless steel that shines with loving care. In the double refrigerator I find the makings for a sandwich. 

I eat my lunch the kitchen table, staring at my phone and telling myself I don't need to check up on Dean, that he's in good hands with whoever Nick sent to babysit him. When I finish eating, I clean up the kitchen, being sure to leave it looking just like it did when I first arrived, and then head back upstairs. I may not have had any dreams disrupting my sleep last night but that doesn't mean I slept well. Plus, being on the road for long periods of time is exhausting, and I realize just how tired I am. With a jaw-cracking yawn, I toe off my shoes, remove my jacket and lay down on the bed fully dressed hoping to get at least a couple hours of sleep.

When I wake up, the sky outside the window is definitely darker telling me I slept longer than I had planned. "Guess I was more tired than I thought." Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I get up and head to the bathroom. 

On my way back to my room, I become aware that I'm no longer alone in the house. I pause outside the master bedroom door and can just barely hear the local evening news. 

_So, at least one of my hosts has arrived home. But which one? And does it really matter?_

_Yes,_ I decide and head down the stairs to the kitchen in search of something to drink.

Before I get there, a noise from a partially open door just past the living room doors gains my attention and I change my route to head in that direction.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open I find myself on the landing of a set of stairs leading into a basement. "Come on in, Carter. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all the way to tomorrow morning." Stepping to the rail, I can see Gibbs standing at a work bench with his back facing me. My trained eye sees that there are scratches on the concrete floor which means this room usually sees a lot of use and that Gibbs is usually working on something large.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to not being able to sneak up on certain people."

"It can be disconcerting at first." He turns to face me and I can see him cleaning some woodworking tools. "Don't just stand there. Come on down." He motions me in with a flick of his head similar to the one he used at his office to get me to follow him before turning back to the bench.

Descending the stairs slowly, I take in what is obviously Gibbs' domain. While I'm sure Tony is welcome here, this space is all Gibbs and it's plain as day that he prefers to work with his hands. There are very few wall outlets and all of them are used for simple appliances like a radio and black and white TV that is a twin to the one in the living room.

Gibbs turns to look at me out of the corner of his eye just as I reach the bottom step. "Normally Tony would be curled up on that step, watching me work while chattering about our day but since you came here to talk to me, I asked him to stay upstairs tonight."

I nod my thanks and sit down, unconsciously, in the exact same spot as Tony. "I'm not sure I even really need to have this conversation anymore."

Gibbs nods in understanding. "I had a feeling when we met earlier that you'd already made up your mind. But you wouldn't have come here if there wasn't something that's still bothering you."

Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I clear my throat and try to figure out how to put my biggest fear into words.

My hesitation makes Gibbs chuckle. "I have a feeling I know what the issue is," he says, dumping the contents of a mason jar onto the surface of the bench before wiping it out with a towel and pouring a measure of bourbon into it and handing it to me. "You're still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you have to die in order to be Turned, aren't you?"

Taking the offered glass, I take a sip and just barely keep from coughing at the burn of it sliding down my throat. "No. The dying part I've come to terms with. It's the fact that Dean has to kill me that I'm having issues with."

"Interesting," he murmurs, leaning back against the bench. "Most Vampires have no problem with that. Hell, I'm a Marine sniper and even I had issues with having to die in order to Bond with Tony."

Sighing deeply, I get up and walk over to stand next to Gibbs, watching him clean his space. "Do you remember any of your past lives?"

"Bits and pieces. Why?"

"How long have you had these memories?" Gibbs turns to frown at me in confusion. "I only ask because all my life I've had dreams of other lives and only now know they're actual memories."

"I see. Any life in particular?"

I turn around and lean my back against the bench, my arms crossed over my chest. "The one that knew Dean when he was Human. And the reason I'm having trouble getting over him having to kill me is that he saw two of my lives die. One in his arms and the other by decapitation."

"Damn," he mutters and I can tell he wants to put a comforting hand on my shoulder but feels we don't know each other enough.

"Yeah." I scrub my hands down my face, rubbing against the stubble I haven't been in the mood to shave off since I began this trip. "Adair and Dean had been lovers before Adair died and Dean was Turned. And the other life, he had just met him, didn't even know his name, but had to stand by and watch as he was executed."

Gibbs turns and mimics my posture. "But it's not the same, Carter. Dean didn't kill those lives. When he Turns you it won't be a _true_ death. Only your status as a Human will die. Since this is a planned Turning no one who doesn't know about Dean will know that you're no longer Human."

What he says makes sense, and repeats almost word for word what Janet, Tim and Horatio have already told me while echoing some of what Nick's said. "I get what you're saying, and have heard it from others, but I still can't get the idea of Dean crying over Adair's lifeless body from my mind."

He nods in sympathy. "I, too, have an image, several in fact, of Tony crying over the dying body of a past life. It's the way of things for those of us who remember the deaths of our former lives. Tony and I were able to get past it and so will you and Dean."

"I'm not so sure, Jethro. I mean I know Dean'll get over it but I'm not sure I can. I remember the sword piercing my body and the axe striking my neck. I've never been fed from willingly so I don't know what it's like and I'm afraid I'll panic when he goes to bite me."

"You need to talk to him about these fears, Carter. He's the only one who can reassure you."

Lowering my gaze to the concrete floor in front of me, I chew my lip and think about what he's said. "I suppose you're right." I glance at my watch and realize it's later than I thought. "I'm gonna go back to my room and let you and Tony get on with your normal evening routine."

"There's no need for that," Gibbs says when I shift my weight in preparation of heading upstairs.

"Of course it is. The two of you have opened your house to a complete stranger, and I thank you for that, the least I can do is allow you some alone time with your Mate." I begin climbing the stairs. "Good-night, Jethro. See you in the morning."

Back in my room, I strip to my boxers and climb under the sheets with a book I brought to read on the plane. Eventually, my eyes get heavy so I put the book on the night table, my glasses folded on top, and turn out the light before settling down for sleep.

An insistent ringing wakes me and I frown, wondering why Gibbs isn't answering his phone, then realize it's my cell. I roll from the bed and hunt in the dark for my jeans and the ringing cell phone in a pocket.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I don't even look at the caller ID before answering. "Carter," I grumble, rubbing one hand tiredly down my face.

_"Carter."_ Dean's voice wakes me up the rest of the way. He sounds rough, so much so that I find myself sitting up and hanging my legs over the side of the bed.

"Dean." I don't even know what to say. This trip has been all about what to do about our future and while I have made my decision, I'm still not ready to say it out loud.

_"Carter…"_ He trails off and I can hear him swallow. _"Please, Carter."_ Did his voice just break? Surely not.

"Dean, I…" I have no words. I seriously cannot think of a single thing to say right now.

_"I need you. Come home. Please! We don't even have to talk about Turning or Bonding or anything like that! Just please! Come home."_ His voice _does_ crack then.

Damn. As difficult this has been on me, it's been even more so on him. "I'm not done here, yet, Dean."

_"Damnit, Carter! Don't make me beg!"_ Is he crying?

"It's not that simple, Dean." I pace the small confines of the bedroom. "It's a lot to take in and I need the space to think and come to a decision."

_"But Cater, I need you! You're my anamchara."."_

"I know that, Dean. I'm not doing this to punish you, I promise. I can't think when I'm near you and this isn't a decision that should be rushed."

Dean sniffs loudly. Could he be drunk? I know Vampires can't get drunk on their own, but could he have fed from someone who was drunk? _"I hear what you're saying but I can't – I can't –"_

"Can't, what, Dean?"

_"Just come home."_ Before I can even open my mouth to respond, I hear him hang up the phone.

I sigh deeply and drop the phone on the night table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "What am I going to do now?" Dean sounded like he was on the edge and I feel like I need another day or two of space before I head back to LA and announce my decision.

I head to the bathroom and then climb between the sheets and again attempt to sleep. I'm not entirely successful, so after tossing and turning for the rest of the night, I get up, dress, and head downstairs. I can hear someone moving around in the kitchen and so I head in that direction.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Tony says in a cheery voice, beating some eggs in a bowl before pouring them into a sizzling hot skillet.

"You can call me Carter, Agent." I step to the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee.

"And you can call me Tony." He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "I was wondering if you were really going to give me a chance to prove I've changed."

I take that as a subtle jab at how much time I've spent in the guest room and admit, "Guess I was more tired than I thought yesterday. I haven't napped like that, without being sick, since I was a kid. And when I got up yesterday evening, you were in your room and I didn't want to disturb you. Plus, I was here to talk to Gibbs."

"Right, of course." Tony expertly slides an omelet from the skillet onto a plate, which he hands to me. "Hope you don't mind a simple egg white omelet. Gibbs says I shouldn't put anything in the food I cook for others unless I ask if it's alright first."

"It's fine. I usually have a shot of Jack, maybe some coffee. Not usually up at this time of day." I take the plate from him and sit down at the table and begin eating.

Tony joins me with a mug of what I quickly realize isn't coffee, but is instead blood. "Gibbs wanted me to extend an invitation for you to shadow us today, if you want."

I smile at him. "So you can prove to me just how much you've changed from the man who did his level best to make my Mate feel like shit?"

He has the grace to look a little flustered and maybe even blush a bit, which I chalk up to the fact that he's currently consuming blood. "I've tried to explain…" he begins.

I don't let him finish. "So you've said. However, I'm not Dean. I don't care. I know you know where I'm coming from when I say that no one gets to treat my Mate that way without me doing something about it."

He smiles. "I do understand where you're coming from with that. But you weren't around for any of my past with Dean."

"Doesn't matter. You made him feel like he wasn't worthy of living and that's unacceptable in my book."

He bows his head. "I know and I deeply apologize. I can't take back what was said or done but I can try to make it right going forward from here."

"Understandable. _If_ indeed, you have changed. And that has yet to be proven to me." I give him a pointed look and finish off my omelet and coffee.

"Don't worry, Carter. I'll prove it to you!" he says, jumping up from the table, picking up my plate and mug and carrying them to the sink. "Better finish getting ready. I have to leave soon."

"I can always come in on my own."

Tony chuckles. "Gibbs asked me to drive you."

"Speaking of, where is you Mate?"

Tony shrugs. "Had something to do, I guess."

"You don't drive in together? No, of course you don't." I answer my own question before Tony can even register that I've asked one. He grins at me. "I bet there are very few people at your office who even know you're Vampires, much less Soul Mates."

"We do work for the military and DADT is still very much in effect."

"But I heard it doesn't affect Vampires."

"Ah, but for that to be the case, we'd have to register and Nick hasn't spent the past two hundred and fifty-five years hiding his people to allow us to register just so we can be 'out' as a gay couple."

"Point," I concede, standing and making my way back upstairs to finish getting ready for the day.

I make short work of brushing my teeth, then run a razor over my jaw to try and at least look like a man who belongs at NCIS headquarters.

On my way back down the stairs I get the feeling Gibbs didn't ask Tony to drive me around so much as Tony demanded the opportunity to begin proving to me that he's changed. I can't decide if I'm annoyed or touched by how much effort Tony is putting into this. I think I'm mostly annoyed. It must show, because when I find Tony waiting for me by the door leading from the kitchen to the garage, he takes one look at me and sighs in defeat. "You're a good match for him, you know."

"Meaning?" I raise one eyebrow and motion with one hand that I'm ready to leave the house.

"You figured out that Gibbs didn't actually ask me to drive you today." He enters the garage and walks around to the driver's side of a classic Mustang.

I get in the passenger side and buckle up before responding. "It wasn't difficult, considering how hard you've been pushing for me to get Dean to talk to you." He backs out of the garage and points the car in the direction of the Navy Yard. "I have to warn you, I may be his Mate and his boss, but he barely listens to me at work much less in our private lives. If you want Dean to talk to you, you're going to have to find a way to get him to see that you've changed. Having others go to bat for you will help, but it has to come mostly from you."

He downshifts to avoid the traffic in front of us and nods. "I've been trying but he stays away from the Clan so much that it's difficult."

"And I plan on changing that." I don't even think about what I've said until Tony whips his head around to stare at me, a pleased grin spreading over his face. "That doesn't mean I've made my decision," I clarify with a groan, thumping my head against the headrest of my seat. Arguing with this man is like arguing with a puppy that thinks it's doing you a favor every time it chews up a favorite pair of worn-down slippers or something.

"Yes, it does. And even if it didn't, do you really think you're fooling anyone? We all know what you've decided."

Damnit. I really hate being that transparent. Plus, I wanted Dean to be the first I actually said that to.

For all his bluster Tony certainly is intuitive, and he lets the grin drop a little. "Don't worry, Carter. No one will tell until you're ready."

I sigh and stare at the passing scenery. "It's not that, Tony. It's that there are no secrets with you guys."

He chuckles and merges with traffic exiting the freeway. "That's where you're wrong. There are secrets in this Clan, not many, true, but there are secrets. And the only reason there are so few is because Nick prefers to remain out of the public eye. Every mayor, governor and president has been read in on Sylum, starting with George Washington."

"Wow. So every city in every state has at least one Vampire?"

"Usually at least two, but yes."

"Huh. And why does Nick not want Humans to know of Sylum?"

"Because of all the history and the hatred. Humans made us outlaws for something that was usually beyond our control. Like Dean. He was Turned Without his Consent and he spent so much of his life being made a target for it. Of course there are some, like myself and Nick, who were Turned in order to live, but still, we were branded outlaws by our very existence."

I wonder, "What does Nick get in return for the government being let in on his secret, beyond not going to jail for being unregistered?"

Tony shrugs. "He's told about every governmental secret there is. And he passes that knowledge on to his followers."

"And the government is okay with that?" Surely that's not legal? And I'm still not seeing what the government is getting out of the deal that seems to give Nick a win at every turn. And how the hell did he manage getting such one-sided secrecy?

"Of course. It's all part of the deal Nick made when he helped fight the British."

That makes a little more sense. Old deals are strong, and I'm pretty sure Nick refuses to allow each successive generation of bureaucrats to 'amend' it. "So much for national security, huh?"

He chuckles, pulling into the parking garage. "Yeah. When you help found a country, there's no such thing."

So that answers that question: it seems as though Sylum is the reason America started out, and has remained, such a strong nation, and this is the US Government's way of continuing to scratch Nick's back since he's been scratching theirs for so long. Tony walks us up to the entrance, and since I'm with him, I don't have to relinquish my weapons today and it's much easier getting through security. 

We're barely in the squad room before Gibbs barks at his agents to get hopping because they've got a case. Tony doesn't even toss out a good morning, just spins smoothly around back toward the elevator, and the other two are quickly at his heel, so I find myself next to Gibbs as he informs us all that there's a dead Sailor in an apartment complex about thirty minutes away. On the way back down to the garage, Tony introduces me to the rest of the team; Agent Timothy McGee and Officer Ziva David. Once in the garage, Tim and Ziva go for a big van, while Gibbs is apparently headed toward his car. I put my hand on the passenger handle out of habit before I stop and realize what I'm doing, but when I turn around Tony is just giving a polite smile and an 'after you' gesture before he climbs into the van with the other agents. I hesitate, but then Gibbs growls, "You coming, Carter?" and that settles that.

Gibbs doesn't talk while he drives, which is fine with me this early in the morning. And in no time, I'm gripping the panic-handles and trying to make sense of how just a few days ago I wouldn't have believed that there was a more dangerous driver than Dean. Now I have to decide who really deserves that title, Gibbs or the crazy Israeli in the van behind us. It almost makes me wish I'd ridden with the coroner, but apparently Ducky and his assistant had gotten a head start since Gibbs had been waiting for me and Tony to show up. _And this is with him driving with the lights off?_ Makes me scared to contemplate how he would drive with them on.

We screech to a stop in front of a modest apartment complex and Gibbs strides up to the front gate like he owns the place, and Tony is immediately at his back despite having had to grab a duffel bag from the back of the van. I'm not too far behind, as are Tim and Ziva, and although I'm given complimentary gloves and booties I'm quickly ordered by Gibbs to keep my hands to myself and just watch quietly. It makes sense, considering I'm out of my jurisdiction in both location and level of authority. 

Ducky is already crouched over the body in the small yet neat living room and greets Jethro with a cheerful nod, an identification of the young Petty Officer, a quick run-down of the God-awful beating he appears to have taken last night, and what sounds like the beginnings of a very long and completely unrelated story before Gibbs excuses himself to go scare the crap out of the neighbors. Tony, Tim, and Ziva make themselves busy taking their photographs and sketches and samples. Mostly, I just watch and try not to get in anybody's way. 

I have to admit, it's both interesting and boring in equal parts to watch them work. Interesting because I'm usually gone by the time the crime scene processors arrive – hell, most times I already know what they're going to find because I had a hand in making those crime scenes in the first place – and boring because I'm doing absolutely nothing but holding the floor down. So I keep my hands in my pockets and listen to the three Agents going back and forth at each other like siblings while they do their work. Tony talks about bad movies and likes to lead his teammates to believe he's banging a different girl every night, Ziva calls him on every single little lie, and Tim mostly keeps his head down and tries not to stutter or get smacked on the back of the head.

Gibbs returns eventually, and when he does he informs us all that apparently there had been a Marine with a temper problem having words with the dead Petty Officer last night. "When do Marines not have temper problems?" Tony mutters. And then he stops and looks at Gibbs like a deer caught in the headlights. Gibbs just jerks his head at the doorway and Tony says, "On it, Boss," and gets going. Ziva is right behind him, following a grunt, point, and wave of the hand from Gibbs. I admire his training methods and make a mental note to ask him how he does that later, because it could do _wonders_ for my blood pressure.

There's little else worth noting from my perspective as the body is eventually transferred to a gurney and walked out by Ducky and his assistant. Gibbs orders Tim to finish up the scene, leaving him a couple of bored local cops for company, and beckons to me to follow him back to the car. The drive back is equally as quiet and harrowing as it had been earlier, and I find myself looking longingly at the rearview and the coroner's van moving at a pace that is probably as fast as most other people on the road but from my perspective looks like it's sitting still, and it quickly vanishes out of sight behind us. 

By the time we get back, I realize that yes, it has been enough time for Tony and Ziva to have beaten us back to the office, because she's at her desk looking at the personal histories of both the victim and the suspect, and after she displays relevant documents on a plasma TV she informs us that the very hung-over and grumpy Marine with a broken nose and bruised knuckles is in an interrogation room. "It's never this easy," I mutter mostly to myself.

"Every now and then, we get lucky," Gibbs answers from all the way across the room, and it makes me jump because I hadn't thought Vampire hearing was that good. I next decide that Gibbs is a scary man when he's bored because he decides to go see what the Marine has to say for himself, and I'm invited along for the ride as long as I stay behind the glass and don't interrupt. I promise wryly to behave myself and am quickly behind a two-way mirror in a small room full of recording equipment. Tony is already there and he seems excited at the prospect of Gibbs reducing the Marine to a blubbering little boy. 

"Gibbs is legendary for his gut," Tony informs me. "He just _knows_ things."

Scary, hell. This man is terrifying, as I quickly come to believe after five minutes of watching him talk to the Marine. And not only am I witnessing a very intimidating Special Agent in his element, but I also appear to be seeing one of those mythical slam-dunk cases opening and shutting right before my eyes. The Marine had been drunk last night but is still carrying his bad mood around, and his motive for beating the Sailor to death is so stupid that I honestly don't even remember it. Something about the Marine being a white boy from the Deep South and the Sailor being a… well, another word for African-American and one I'm not too fond of. "Seriously?" I mutter.

Tony just snorts. "Yeah. We _still_ get cases like this. And it's just between two different skin colors of Humans."

I catch the unspoken addition and wince. If it's still this bad between Humans, then I realize that I truly can't imagine the horrors Humans have inflicted on Vampires over the centuries. No wonder they're so secretive.

"Ya know," I say as Tony and I exit the observation room. "I never have understood that kind of hatred. I mean, why hate someone for the color of their skin or because they have different religious views or because they're a Vampire. I understand why Vampires tend to keep that fact secret but I still don't get why some Vampires are so scared of Humans. Vampires are stronger than Humans so really, why fear exposure?"

Tony contemplates my questions while we walk, his hands tucked in his pockets. "Because Humans can kill us. Or rather they can make it painful to be alive for a while. We don't get as many mobs with pitchforks as we used to, but sometimes having your face and your dirty little secret posted on every other telephone pole can be just as bad." By this time we've reached the bullpen, which is bustling with activity and since I'm not sure who knows about Tony, we have to put the conversation on hold. "I got a lot of paperwork. Do want to help or should I run you back to the house first?"

"I suppose I could help. It's a long time since I wrote a report from an investigator's perspective. For the past three years, I've only written reports as an undercover operative."

"Excellent." He sits down at his desk. "You can use McGee's desk. Just tell what you saw. I'll make sure Gibbs gets a copy."

I sit down at the desk Tony indicated and open a Word document, then begin typing my observations of the scene. It doesn't take long and I realize I should probably make reservations for a flight home. Pulling my cell from my pocket, I call the airline and request the first flight to LA from Dulles International. The helpful agent tells me the earliest flight out is 7 the next morning. Despite wanting to get home _now_ , I book a seat.

"Ya know," Tony calls, strolling up to prop one hip against a corner of the desk. "You could have called Nick and gotten a flight out tonight, in first class."

"I'm not a member of the Clan, yet, and so refuse to let him pay my way. He's already paid for my ticket to Miami and the car I rented to get here."

Tony grins at me. "You _still_ haven't figured it out, have you?"

"What?" I'm getting tired of feeling like everyone knows something I don't.

"Sylum takes care of its own. You may not be a member, or even Mated to a member, but Dean is a member in all but name, and therefore Nick will bend over backward to protect both you and him."

"Does being a member mean I have to let Nick pay for things I'm more than capable of paying for myself? 'Cause, if so, then I'm not so sure I want to be a member." 

Tony sighs and I get the weird feeling that he's restraining the urge to call me on something like chauvinism. "No. Nick's just going above and beyond to try and woo Dean into Pledging his Oath. He's hoping by spoiling you, you'll talk him into it. If you decide to Turn, that is."

So I'm officially not fooling anyone anymore. I decide to ignore that and just as mock-sarcastically inform him, "Just like with your request, I'll do my best, if I decide to Turn." Tony smirks at me, and slaps me on the shoulder.

"That'll have to do."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yells from the balcony above us. Tony glances up, nods once and with another pat to my shoulder, stands and heads up the stairs. Gibbs whispers something to Tony before the two of them enter a door under the letters M.T.A.C. I go back to my report.

When they exit the room several hours later, Gibbs tells me to follow him and I find myself once again fighting panic as the man drives us back to his house.

The three of use eat dinner together, Tony talked Gibbs into ordering from a local Italian restaurant. The conversation is entertaining, and mostly about Tony's life as a Vampire. I learn that Gibbs has returned once each century since Tony was Turned and he's something of a legend within the Clan because of it. I don't have the heart to tell them that Dean will most likely usurp him in that once the Clan discovers he returned just two years after a past life died.

My hosts decline my offer to assist with the clean up and shoo me off to bed, stating my early morning flight out as the reason. While that is true, I'm pretty sure the main one is so they can spend some time reconnecting at the end of a long day.

The next morning I catch Tony coming back from his morning run. "Shall I fix you something to eat before you head out, Carter?"

"No need. I'll either catch something at the airport or on the plane."

He nods his agreement. "Very well." He extends one hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Hope to see you again soon."

I shake his hand. "Likewise." Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I step around him and exit the door, pausing on the front step to throw him a bone since I can practically feel him hovering behind me, I turn around to meet his eye. "For the record, I can see that you are not the man Dean told me about. If you're ever in LA, stop by and I'll make sure he at least listens to what you have to say."

Tony's face splits into a huge grin. "Thanks, Carter!" He thumps me on the arm. "Have a good flight. And remember, whatever your decision, it's the right one for you."

"Thanks, Tony." With a mock two-fingered salute, I head down the walkway, to my waiting rental car and then to the airport and to LA. The trip back goes as smoothly as any trip by plane can in this post 9/11 world, which is to say I think I spend as much time removing my shoes and biting my tongue as I actually spend in my seat on the plane. Through it all, I keep what Tim, Horatio and Gibbs told me in mind, and when the plane touches down I make my way from the terminal to where I left my car and from there head on home to Dean.

From the way Dean sounded when he called night before last, I'm expecting him to be a mess. But even so, I'm not prepared for the sight that greets me when I exit the elevator at the loft. Dean has always been fairly neat but tonight the apartment looks like Dean had a party then decided to not clean up after. And Dean himself, well, let's just say, he's looked better.

Dean's sprawled on the couch that faces the elevator, wearing a tee shirt and jeans and is tossing back what appears to be scotch like there's no tomorrow. He's pale and his eyes are red-rimmed, and he somehow doesn't appear to notice my entrance. If I didn't know better, I'd say he hasn't fed in several days, but I spoke with Don Eppes just yesterday and he confirmed what Nick told me three days ago: that Dean spent twenty-four solid hours locked in a room with several donors.

"Hello, Dean," I say, suddenly unsure of my welcome.

He looks up at me and snorts. "So, you came back." His voice is heavy with derision.

"Not the welcome I was expecting."

His forehead wrinkles in a frown and his eyes narrow in anger. "What? I'm supposed to greet you with open arms, whisk you off to bed to fuck your brains out? _You_ left _me_ , Carter. Please remember the last thing you said to me before walking – no _running_ out!" He jumps from the couch and throws his empty glass against the fireplace.

I drop my duffle and heave a deep sigh. "I know, Dean, and I'm sorry."

"Sorry!?" The bottle of scotch joins the glass, spilling amber liquid and dangerous glittering shards all over the wall and floor. "You're _sorry_? For breaking another promise? I trusted you!" He's shaking so hard his teeth are chattering.

"Dean-" I approach where he's standing, only to have him throw his hands up and pace away from me. "I came back because I made my decision."

"Well, goody, goody for you!" Even with his back turned I can tell he's crying, his tears are heavy in his voice.

I force myself to remain calm and patient even though I honestly can't decide whether I want to throw my arms around him or throw my fist into his belligerent, sarcastic face. "I came like you asked."

"Two days ago!" He spins to face me. "And I was _drunk_!"

"You can't get drunk."

"Unless I feed from someone who's drunk."

My shoulders slump as what he's saying registers. "So you didn't mean any of it?" I blink back the tears that are stinging my eyes. 

"Not. One. Word." His face is a mask of anger and pain and – an emotion I'm not sure I want to name.

I can feel my world falling apart around me. When I reach down for my duffle a small voice in the back of my head begins pleading with me. Saying, "Don't leave me. Please stay. Fight for me. Prove you love me and won't ever leave again." I turn and look at Dean. His posture screams pissed off but his eyes… his eyes are begging me to stay, to love him, to not leave him alone anymore. "Dean," I whisper his name, stepping to where he's standing, his back ramrod straight. Tucking the fingers of one hand in a pocket of his jeans, I try and tug him closer.

"Don't-" he orders through gritted teeth, wrapping one finger and a thumb around my wrist making sure to touch as little of my skin as possible. "-touch me."

Even those tiny points of contact make me keenly aware of just how long it's been since I've touched him. "Why? Huh? What's wrong with touching?"

"It hurts. I can't bear to lose you again, so, please, just go." That's when I realize that I can feel his hurt and anger over what he sees as my betrayal. 

And suddenly it all makes sense. What Nick has been trying to tell me. The past three months of touching have created the Bond and it's almost as strong as if he had fed from me. If I hadn't already decided to let him Turn me, I would have to change my mind because it's too late for anything else. Too late for 'Let me think about it some more'. Too late to not lose my heart to this man who is still so very much the scared teenager who had to bury his parents. There's a sudden, tight feeling in my gut when I realize we're at that stage I had been told about, that dangerous and delicate stage that is basically the Vampire's version of 'now or never.' Nick had hinted around it when he'd talked about how he'd been wishing I would hurry up and make up my mind before Dean 'became a weakness.' It could also explain why Gibbs had insisted I stay at his place rather than some anonymous hotel: he'd been watching my back, even though he'd probably never say it aloud. I hadn't realized we were that far along, but the look on Dean's face and the sensations in my head make it crystal clear: if we don't do this soon or if something happens to me before it does, then things could get very, very bad. 

I remember what Nick had said of what he'd done when he lost Warren. My heart falters when I think of Dean doing the same things, of going insane with grief and single-handedly waging a one-man war on downtown Los Angeles. I cannot – I _will not_ – let it come to that. Dean is teetering on a razor's edge but I can bring him back.

He flings my hand away but I snag a belt loop with two fingers of the other hand before he can even so much as shift his weight in preparation of stepping back. "Dean." My voice breaks on his name. 

He has been shoving everything he's been feeling through the Bond to me so I try and do the same, only with my feelings for him. I do my best to shove all the love I have for him to his end of the Bond. I have no idea if I'm successful or not since he doesn't react, but at least he doesn't try to back away either. I reach out with one hand to touch his face and he actually flinches away from me so I grab a fistful of his shirt to keep him in place. "Talk to me."

He shakes his head. "You promised." He keeps saying that and I have no idea what he's talking about. I never actually promised I'd never leave. I am more than willing to promise I'll never leave again now, however. "You said I'd never be alone again and then you died, too. Everyone leaves me."

_I died? What the hell is he talking about?_ And then it hits me: he's lost in the past and is seeing me as Adair. I have no memory of Adair ever promising Dean he'd never be alone but he must have, with deeds if not with actual words. "Dean." I feel like I've lost him and it hurts. It actually, physically hurts.

"Don't leave me, Adair," he whimpers and I managed to cup one hand around the back of his neck and it seems to snap him out of wherever he's gone. "Carter?"

"I'm here," I promise. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Hold me? Please, Carter. Just hold me." He wraps his arms around my waist and tucks his head under my chin.

"Sure but not here. You're too big for me to hold like this standing up." He heaves a shuddering breath and slowly backs away until he can lie down on the bed. I kick off my shoes and crawl up the bed to lie beside him. "How do you want to do this?" I ask, remembering he's not much for cuddling.

Instead of answering, he rolls to his side, facing me, and wraps his arms around my waist again and tucks his head under my chin. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, one hand holding the back of his head. Kissing the top of his head I murmur, "Mo shíorghrá." over and over.

Dean does his best to crawl inside my skin and for the first time I feel the Bond as a white hot heat instead of just an annoying sizzle along my nerve endings. It's no longer an itch I hadn't even known how to scratch. It has become something else, something… much… _more_. And it fills me with a sense of anticipation bordering on urgency, like my body is wondering what the hell I'm waiting for. _Not much longer now_ , I tell myself, and I simply hold him until he falls asleep and allow myself to follow a few minutes later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the season one episode _Venice Kings_
> 
> Despite this having every single one of Carter's scenes transcribed in it, I left out the sub plot with Ty's sister. I did this for two reasons. One, I think it's a stupid storyline, I mean c'mon. If her wrist was so bad off it needs to be pinned, she'd be wearing a brace or a temporary splint and certainly wouldn't be waving it around like she was. And two, it doesn't fit with the end of the case with the Kings as I have it written. In other words, it doesn't fit into my universe. So here, in this series, Ty is an only child.

From the moment I woke this morning I knew something big was going to happen. And I'm not talking about the bust we've been preparing for, for the past month. No, I'm fairly sure that today is The Day. Yes, with capital letters; _The Day_.

I've been sitting at my desk for hours finalizing some paperwork when the door to the loft clangs its warning that I'm no longer alone. I glance up and can tell from the way Dean is striding across the space toward me that he knows that today is The Day, too.

For a very real moment I don't see the jeans, grey shirt and black under shirt that Dean is wearing but the tunic-like garment that Dean told me he wore before he was Turned that he says is called a léine. It's belted with a thin piece of braided leather holding his broadsword on his left hip and he has a pair of an early version of modern day Highland boots on his feet and his hair is long and flowing in the wind with braided strands peeking out here and there. He once told me that before he married his laird's sister his braids were tied with simple pieces of leather but that after the wedding his wife would use her own ribbons to hold his braids and most times the ribbons were pulled from her own braids. In this moment I can see that Dean Bendis has always been one hell of a scary man. Definitely not someone you want to fuck over.

A shiver skates down my spine and Dean smirks when he sees it. "Today's The Day," I say when he stops in front of my desk.

"Yeah. After the bust, though."

I roll my eyes. Like I would make him Turn me, then go out for the bust. It's been days since Dean and I have had any time alone because he's been busy gathering the evidence we need to make the coming bust stick, but I'm not that hard up for it. "Of course. The reports can wait until tomorrow."

He nods, sharp, quick, decisive. He rakes his gaze down my body when I stand and my dick twitches with interest. I can honestly say I have never in my life had a lover like Dean Bendis. He's demanding but also attentive. He never takes more than he gives. In fact there have been times when I've felt guilty that he's given more than I have.

"I've missed you," I whisper, eyes locked on his. I've discovered a huge kink for his fangs and know that if I look at his mouth, I'll be hard pressed to not throw myself on him.

"I've missed you, too." He steps around the desk and gets in my personal space, backing me up against the desk.

He leans in to scent my neck, pushing his thigh between mine and rubbing our erections against each other. "I'll ask Jaimie to get Ty outta here ASAP. Not sure I'm gonna be able to wait too much longer. Been too long already."

And he's right. It has been too long already. Four months too long to be exact. Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, I pull him into a kiss designed to make us both forget that we can't go upstairs right this minute.

Pulling back, I gulp huge lungfuls of air. "Be careful out there, okay?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yes, dear," he responds sarcastically. "Not my first drug bust, ya know."

I sigh and run one hand down his stubbled cheek. "I know. It's just…" I trail off and lick my lips. "I don't know what I'd do if something was to happen to you now." My voice is so soft that I'm positive he wouldn't have heard me if he wasn't a Vampire.

"I know, Carter." His voice matches mine and he copies me by running the backs of his fingers down my cheek. "I promise I'm going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

I can't help the chuckle at how we must look, two guys being all mushy with each other. Neither Dean nor I do feelings very well but we've been trying to make more of an effort since my mini freak-out last month. Dean smiles at me and I feel like such a girl at how my heart beat increases. "I know you're not. It's just…" I shake my head. "I can't explain it. I have a bad feeling."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," he reassures me before pulling me into a kiss designed to leave me boneless.

It's succeeding when the door clangs shut and Ty calls, "Dudes! What the fuck?"

Dean and I pull apart, both of us wiping our hands across our mouths. "You got a problem with it?" Dean asks, his hands settling on my hips to keep me in place when I try to slip out from between him and the desk.

A glance over my shoulder shows Ty looking between Dean and me with a confused look on his face. "Uh…" He runs one hand over his scalp. "Naw, just so long as it doesn't interfere with work." He rubs at his eyes, _hard_. "So, um, are the two of you, like, _gay_ or something?"

I finally manage to get out from between Dean and the desk. "No. We're bi-sexual. Right, Carter?" Dean reaches out and snags the back of my belt, tugging me closer.

"Yeah. Never saw any point in only being interested in one gender."

Ty just nods. "Okay. So, you promise to keep this-" He wags a finger in a circle, encompassing Dean and I. "-whatever this is, where I don't have to see it."

I can feel Dean tense beside me. _Uh-oh. This ain't gonna be pretty._ "Didn't realize you were homophobic, Ty."

That brings Ty up short. "Didn't say I was. Personally, I have nothing against homosexuality. I just don't want to see it. And I most definitely don't want to see the two of you going at it."

While Ty's answer is reasonable, Dean doesn't relax at all. But then again, Ty _is_ Dean's best friend and if he has a problem with Dean and I being in love, it'll bother Dean to no end. "Are you cool knowing that Carter and I are a couple?"

One of Ty's eyebrows climbs his forehead. "Couple? Y'all are serious?"

"If you consider living together serious, then yeah, we're serious." Dean's tone is borderline hostile, not that I blame him. I can see this coming to blows soon and so try and remove his fingers from my belt. A barely audible growl, and a sudden onslaught of frustration from Dean's end of the Bond, warns me to stop trying to get away.

Ty's face breaks into a wide grin and he bounces over to slap us both on the shoulder. "Congrats, man. I had no idea. Why didn't you say something? I could have told Melissa so she'd stop badgering me to set y'all up with someone."

"Kinda keeping it on the down low, if you know what I mean," I say, managing to remove _one_ finger from my belt.

"I understand." Ty's voice now holds a touch of disappointment that Dean didn't trust him enough to confide in him about his relationship with me.

With a sub vocal growl of my own, I give up on trying to escape Dean's hold on my belt. "Grab Jaimie and set up in the spot you picked out. I'll be there in a few." Ty nods his head, turns and heads out. Turning to Dean, I finally manage to remove his grasp on my belt. "You better go, too." Dean's nod is extremely stiff. "Dean," I start, not sure what I want to say.

"Don't worry about it, Carter. We got some bad guys to bust." Clenching his jaw, he spins on one heel and marches from the room.

"Well, fuck," I mutter, snatching my keys from the desk drawer and following my Mate from the loft. 

Several minutes later, I'm sitting in my car with a fairly good view of the SUV Dean's in with members of the Venice Kings, the gang we're trying to bust. Jaimie and Ty are in another car not far away and also with a good line of sight on Dean.

So far things have been really quiet when suddenly a black motorcycle with two riders wearing German-looking war helmets and face bandanas drives slowly by setting off all my alarms. _Here comes that something bad I tried to warn Dean about._ I thumb my radio and call Ty, "Black crotch-rocket, two riders. I don't like it." _Understatement of the year._

_"Movin' kinda slow, Carter. Two males."_ I can tell by the tone of Ty's voice that he agrees with me.

As the bike pulls even with the SUV Dean's in, there's a pause while the two groups just look at each other before the guys on the bike pull out what I identify at this distance only as a pair of handheld automatic weapons. My blood runs cold as they open fire and hose down the back and side of the SUV, the windows exploding as if they were made from sugar glass instead of safety glass. "It's an ambush!" I can feel my heart skip a beat and the bottom of my stomach drops as I realize that Dean could be 'killed' in this ambush, ruining all our plans. "Anyone got a visual on Dean?" All I can see through the shattered rear window is Pike kneeling on the front passenger seat and firing at the retreating motorcycle.

Ty begins to scream into his radio, _"Do you see Dean!?"_ Good to know the almost argument back at the loft earlier didn't harm Ty's feelings for Dean, and then I shove that thought to the back burner for later. 

The SUV takes off and I follow at a distance. It pulls up to a house and Pike gets out with his gun drawn and confronts a couple of men sitting in front of the house. Cop cars start to pull up and I park mine between them and where Dean is standing with a pistol in his hand. Dean begins shooting in my direction while Pike starts moving back to the SUV. Dean fires above my head and I'm forced to aim my shotgun far to the side to avoid accidentally shooting him. We get off another couple of rounds at each other before I decide that should be good enough and cock my head at Dean to tell him he should go. Dean smirks and pops off a few more before dashing off and I make no move to chase him. No point, really, since I know where to find him later.

Ty and Jaimie beat me back to the office. When I walk in, I place my shotgun back down on Dean's desk and ask, "We got a status on the kid who got shot?" feeling only slightly guilty about being grateful it wasn't Dean. 

Jaime walks back to her desk from the printer next to Ty's with something she's printed out. "You mean the one the Kings dumped two blocks from the ER? Yeah, he's in surgery, barely hangin' on." Jaimie's voice holds more than a hint of frustration and anger at how the boy's so called friends treated him. Especially since they were the reason he got shot in the first place.

Ty pipes up from where he's sitting on his desk, "The shooters were Lokes, defendin' their turf. Eddie Sykes tipped 'em off, most likely."

Jaimie pulls up Sykes' mug shots. "Most definitely. The most heroin Sykes has moved is a single key. Now, in the middle of a heroin drought, he tells the Kings he has _five_?" She spins to face me, her incredulity clear on her face.

Something isn't sitting right with me. "But why the double-cross? We have no evidence he has allegiance to the Lokes. And the Kings' money spends like any other."

"What are we really trying to do here? Get rid of whitey so the Lokes can win the heroin war?" Jaimie asks sarcasm heavy in her tone.

I smirk a bit at her question. "At least we're not racist."

Jaimie frowns at me. "I'm serious."

"The Kings are ambitious. Big ideas, big goals, they think like businessmen, not gangbangers. The Kings win the war, they'll expand the heroin business in a way the Lokes never could." I pause to think about what's more than likely going on. "So, yeah. I guess we are trying to help the Lokes, in a way."

It appears we're not going to be getting any answers tonight so we call it a day and I hope that Dean finds a way to contact me soon. It takes a lot of effort to not throw things in a fit of pique over not ending this day the way I had planned, with Dean draining me so he can Turn me and then us Bonding.

The next day Dean does manage to call. His own frustration over our canceled plans is evident in his voice, the strain making it crack slightly. _"Hey. Look, I've got a problem above my pay grade here, guys."_

"What's that?" I pace, holding my phone, which is on speaker, so we can all hear what Dean has to say.

_"O'Neil wants me to kill Sykes and he says if I do then he'll sit down with my heroin connection."_

"That all?" I walk up behind Jaimie and point at the computer. "Sykes have any warrants? Anything at all?"

Jaimie replies, "Bench warrant. Two old parking tickets."

"Bring him in," I order. Really, is it that hard?

Ty joins in, "On parking tickets?"

Dean doesn't seem to be following my train of thought today. _"He wants him_ dead _, Carter."_

I just barely refrain from rolling my eyes. I understand Dean's very much on the edge because of the need to Turn me, but really, follow me here, thuit mo. "Maybe we can hide him for a bit. Buy some time."

_"Look, my boy, my boy Halsey, he's gettin' edgy, I'm telling you."_ And he ain't the only one, if that little catch in Dean's voice is any indication.

"How edgy?" How edgy can a Human be when compared with a Vampire who has had to postpone Turning and Bonding with his Mate?

_"What you might expect from a civilian who saw some kid get shot five times in the_ stomach _-edgy."_

Jaimie scoffs, "A civilian? We popped him for selling four keys of coke."

_"Okay, who's talking to you? And what does that mean, anyway?"_ Oh, but Dean is so going to get it from her later, unless I can convince her to let it slide due to him fighting his instincts to take me somewhere private and Turn and Bond with me. _"All right? It's okay to get him killed?"_

"I'm just saying." Jaimie shrugs.

_"Yeah, what are you saying?"_ And now _I_ want to smack Dean. Being on edge is one thing, taking it out on someone like Jaimie is another and is something I don't usually let slide.

"He's a criminal, not a Sunday school teacher!" Jaimie tries to justify her viewpoint.

_"He's an ex-drug addict who joined the gang in prison, okay? So he wouldn't get_ raped _. He's scared."_

"What's your point?" As much as I want this over _now_ I can't let Dean run roughshod over everything.

_"He knows I'm a cop. He flips, I'm dead._ That's _my point."_

I point at Ty. "Bring him in."

_"Arresting him is a bad idea."_ Dean's agitation is making itself known through the Bond. Since we're not fully Bonded yet I know he must be about to Vamp out and end this now if I can feel it this strongly.

"Who says we're gonna arrest him?" I sense rather than hear, Dean's growl of frustration before he ends the call. Turning to Ty and Jaimie, I say, "Let's do this."

When we arrive at Sykes' apartment, Ty begins pounding on the door and the sounds of someone scrambling around inside can be heard. After I give the signal, Ty busts in, gun drawn, yelling, "Police, freeze!"

Sykes backs up across the room, his hands raised in surrender. "Whoa, whoa, what did I do? What the hell did I do?"

I walk in and see he's holding something in one of his hands. Stepping up to him, I knock it from his grasp and put my gun under his chin. This son of a bitch almost got my Mate killed. I'm nearly positive that both Ty and Jaimie would back me up if my finger was to 'slip' on the trigger and blow his head off. "You park your deVille in a handicapped zone?"

Sykes begins shaking slightly and says in a quiet, scared voice, "What are you talking about?"

"Time to pay the piper," I snarl. I'm hanging onto my sanity by my fingernails here.

Ty has been checking the apartment and calls, "Clear." I remove my gun from under Sykes' jaw but make sure he can still see it. "Spotless, too. I don't buy it."

Pressing my gun into Sykes' cheek, I order over my shoulder, "Turn this place upside down." Sykes gulps loudly.

I push him down into a chair, leaving him untied, while Ty pokes around and Jaimie stands next to me. "Why'd you set up the Venice Kings? Huh? What the Lokes offer you?"

"Look, I didn't set anybody up. All right? I've never even _heard_ of the Venice Kings." Sykes tries to get us to leave, must mean he's got a lot to hide.

"Well, they know you, Sykes. They put a hit on you," I inform him, watching the color drain from his face.

When Ty begins digging through a small duffel, Sykes becomes agitated, but when Ty approaches a built-in full of books and other knick-knacks, Sykes yells, "What's he lookin' for?"

"Termites. They killed five people recently. You wanna be number six?" I'm surprised at how badly I want to beat this guy senseless.

Sykes is shocked by what I just told him. "What? Fellas, ma'am, no, you got me mixed up with somebody else. I'm, I'm a financial consultant. I never even-" His face pales even further when we hear Ty open up a knife. "Yo, what the hell are you lookin' for, brother? Hello?" He leans around me, trying to see what Ty's up to. I turn and see that Ty has found a crack in the wall and is taking down the shelves and all the crap on them to reveal a shit load of money. Suddenly, Sykes jumps up. "I know what is there to the _penny_!"

Jaimie shoves him back down into the chair. "Sit down." I'm beginning to think she's feeling how edgy Dean and I are and is reacting accordingly.

Sykes doesn't give up, and shouts around her, "Down to the _penny_ , you understand? You got no right comin' in here, goin' through my walls. You need a warrant! Fourth Amendment!"

I glance idly at the money, then back to Sykes. "You want it confiscated? Ill-gotten gains? Or walk away with every penny? Up to you. How did you wire up the hit on the Venice Kings today?"

I think Sykes is beginning to get where we're headed with this. "I didn't wire up jack! Look, Darnell Wallace runs 28th Street Lokes. He said he'd pay if I told him the next time somebody was lookin' to score big-time smack."

I frown down at where Sykes is sitting. "What, he wants a monopoly on the smack trade? What's he holding?"

"Nothin', it's a ghost town. Now, about my money." Why do I feel like he's lying to me?

"You play ball, sit in a cell for a week, then disappear, you can keep your cash." I give him my best offer.

Sykes scoffs, "Yeah, right."

Putting on my most patronizing tone, I reply, "So cynical. Makes me kinda sad." I then turn around and tell Ty, "Scour the pad for the rest of the dope. And then voucher the money." Ty is staring at the stacks of money and doesn't seem to hear me. "You hear me?"

Ty eventually looks up, surprised to find me frowning at him. "Yeah." I know him and Melissa are having money problems, what with him wanting to provide more for her than he can really afford, but I didn't realize it was bad enough for him to contemplate taking money from a bust.

"Ty?" I step closer, my head tilted, trying to catch his eye.

He visibly shakes himself. "No, I'm good." He turns and begins searching the rest of the apartment. Catching Jaimie's eye, I motion for her to keep an eye on Ty before I turn and head back to the loft.

After another nearly sleepless night where I do my best to not say fuck it all and drive over to the Kings' base of operations and drag Dean away so we can do what needs to be done, namely him Turning me and us Bonding, I'm stationed in a SWAT van while Jaimie is in position to watch Ty drive up to the door for the buy.

Jaimie calls over the radio, _"He's in."_

I respond, "In position."

Ty informs us, _"I see Dean, Halsey, Pike, and O'Neil."_

A voice I'm guessing belongs to O'Neil, greets Ty, _"Mr. Corona. The goods?"_ The sound of a trunk opening reaches my ears. _"This way, my man, let's get started. What are you drinking?"_ There are sounds of them walking around and getting comfortable, possibly sitting in an office of some kind. _"Tell me how you do it,"_ O'Neil orders.

_"So we line sealed packets in, thank you-"_ He must have accepted a drink. _"-frozen shark carcasses on their way to the Miami fish market. They get weighed through customs, take a little detour, Hector Corona gets what's his, and the market gets its fish. Simple."_

_"That's incredible,"_ O'Neil says and I'm not sure if he's impressed or not.

_"Mind if I take a peek at the other half of this equation?"_ It appears Ty has picked up on mine and Dean's frustration, despite not knowing the reason for said frustration.

_"Who else do you do business with?"_ I really hate it when the bad guys know how to think.

_"It's confidential."_ Leave it to Ty to find a way to try and keep the lie from getting any bigger. But it might backfire on us in a spectacular way.

_"Why, what are you? Are you a priest or are you a drug dealer?"_

_"Chin-chin de la dos."_ Gonna have to ask Dean later what that means.

_"Me no speaka… whatever."_

_"That means 'I'm a little bit of both'."_ Okay, so maybe I don't need to ask, or maybe I need to ask if what Ty just said is really what it means.

_"He's done business with my friend from Sacramento. Guy named J.K. Landers."_ Dean's snitch, Halsey, interjects.

_"And how do you know him?"_ O'Neil demands details.

_"We were in juvenile together. He's a good guy."_ Guy's good on his feet. Thinks real fast. Might just have to think about offering him a job.

_"It's on your name, brother."_ This guy won't think twice about killing anyone, especially someone like Halsey.

_"Forty-five percent,"_ a new voice says. Must be the guy testing the drugs.

_"That's a good number for takin' over Venice."_ I'm thinking O'Neil is really close to accepting what we're selling.

_"Like I said, man. Only the best."_ The sound of a briefcase being opened is heard. _"That's good. Very good."_ Ty gives the signal.

"It's done. At the ready," I call over the radio. _Thank_ God, _this is almost over._ The silence in the van is interrupted by the sound of a full team of SWAT readying their weapons.

_"It's the last piece, brother. This time tomorrow we own Venice."_ O'Neil's voice is extremely smug.

_"I thought Venice was the Lokes'. They may have a little opinion on that."_

O'Neil chuckles, _"Well, won't none of them be around to voice their opinion. They'll be gone in a puff of smoke. Keep an eye on the news tomorrow."_

_Aw,_ fuck _!_ "No…" I can't stop the whispered moan from escaping. That little son of a bitch! How dare he? I swear, if there's even _one more_ thing that pushes this back, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions.

Ty wonders, _"So, any place I should stay away from, so I… so I stay safe?"_

I can almost hear the smirk in O'Neil's tone. _"Stay east of the 405 for the rest of the day. Unless you don't mind gettin' ash on your silk shirt."_

I clench my hand so tight around the radio, I'm afraid I'll break it in two. "You gotta be kidding me…" I open and close my hand around the radio before suddenly slamming it down on the dashboard. "Dammit." I exit the van, doing my best to not stomp my foot like a toddler who hasn't gotten his way. So close. So _fucking_ close. But if O'Neil is saying what I'm pretty damn sure he's saying…

Jaimie calls on the radio, _"What's goin' on, Carter? We goin' in or not?"_ How to tell her we can't do anything because of the fucking bomb? _"It's a whole lot easier to bust these assholes with the doors open. Are we movin' in or not?"_

Reaching back inside the van, I grab up my radio and say through gritted teeth, "No! Abort the arrest! Repeat, _abort. The arrest_." I think I'm going to be punching something soon, and _hard_. How could a simple little bust go so fucking wrong?

_"Why?"_ Jaimie asks, perplexed.

"There's a bomb."

_"A bomb? Where?"_ Her confusion equals my own.

"That's a hell of a question."

I'm so pissed about having to postpone what is basically my wedding night, _again_ , I just send everyone home without any explanation, not that Jaimie needs one.

After yet _another_ sleepless night where I'm alone in Dean's bed, I get a call from Dean. "I had no choice, Dean. There's a damn _bomb_ out there!" How can he not see that this takes precedence?

_"You have any idea what you're doing, Carter?"_ Not really, do _you_!?

"You didn't hear O'Neil talking about a _bomb_?" He should have, according to Ty Dean was in the same room.

_"He is talking_ smack _, man."_

"And if he's _not_?"

_"Okay, then we bust him and then we get him talkin'."_

"He spent half his _life_ in jail; he doesn't care if he goes back!" I run the fingers of one hand through my hair.

_"If Halsey cracks, he's dead. And_ then _, they kill me."_ His voice does that stressed cracking thing again.

"He made this _bomb_ out to be something big! We're talking _innocent people_!"

I can actually hear him grinding his teeth. _"I'm tellin' ya, Carter, I don't know how much my boy Halsey can take of this."_ And not just Halsey if what I'm feeling from his end of the Bond is any indication.

"Listen to me. You are _in_. Until we _find_ this bomb. You hear me? If you're _nervous_? Find it fast." And how I hate having to say that. I hang up the phone and take a deep breath to get myself back under control. "C'mon, Jaimie. Let's go take a ride."

"Carter," Jaimie calls. "About what you just did-"

I don't let her finish. "It's a necessary evil, Jaimie. We got to find this bomb." I give her a nod to try and let her know we can finish this conversation in the car, away from where Ty's counting the money taken from Sykes' wall.

Once in the car, she puts her hand on my arm. "I know what you've had to give up this week. We're all trying to get this over and done with-"

Again, I don't let her finish. "You don't know _shit_! You and Jon aren't anywhere near where Dean and I are. So, please, don't use that 'I understand what you're going through' crap with me, okay?" When she flinches, I feel bad for yelling at her but why can't the one person who knows about Dean fucking understand that platitudes are not going help in this case. Heaving a deep sigh, I run my hands down my face. "Sorry. What I need is to find this bomb so we can do what Dean needs."

She nods, dropping the topic and we just drive in circles until I feel calm enough to let her and Ty go off to Sykes' place to get the address of the most likely place for the bomb.

Ty and Jaimie return with a briefcase which Ty flips open but instead of a bomb, there's only money. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Anything?" I approach where he has the briefcase open on his desk.

"Some guns, some coke, no trace of explosives." Jaimie is getting pretty close to the edge herself. Although, until her and Jon are in a similar position, she'll never understand exactly how tightly wound Dean and I currently are.

"Anybody got a location on Darnell Wallace?" I ask, fingering the money in the case.

"If they do, they aren't talking," Jaimie responds.

"All right, communicate that to Dean." If I do it, I'll just end up demanding he find a way to disappear so we can Bond.

"Don't these guys know we're in the middle of a damn recession? Jeez." Ty is still eyeing the cash. I'll have to keep an eye on him. Not that I think he'll actually do anything, but if he's tempted he might do something even stupider than taking some money off the top.

After calling Dean to let him know of the recent developments, Jaimie pulls up O'Neil's mug shots and is studying his dossier. "He's been locked up twenty-five of his forty years. Folsom, Pelican Bay, he led a gang in San Quentin."

All this delay is about to drive me fucking bat shit and has me pacing the loft. "Family?"

"Uh, mother's in a nursing home, but no wife, no kids," Jaimie replies.

Ty interjects with, "I got a note here on a girlfriend, Marcella Vasquez, twenty-five."

"She got a record?" I've got to find a way to use her as leverage. It's the only way I can see to wrap this up in time.

"Clean as a whistle. She's a receptionist at some accounting firm in Playa Del Rey." Ty reads from the file in his hand.

"We've tried everything. So…"

Ty's head snaps up. "What?"

Why are they not following me here? "Let's grab the girlfriend."

"For what?" Leave it to Jaimie to object.

"Leverage." Jaimie's mouth drops open. "You got a problem?" My brows lower over my nose as I frown down at where she's sitting. She of all people knows why I need this to happen, _yesterday_.

"She's a secretary," Jaimie says as if that means anything.

I shrug. "So?"

"Dating a criminal doesn't make you one." And she would know. Oh, wait, in her case it wasn't true.

"You read that in a fortune cookie?" Damn, now _I'm_ snapping at her.

"This woman didn't do a damn thing, Carter!"

"Neither did the innocent people her prick boyfriend's about to kill! And none of them are screwing him!"

Jaimie shakes her head and stands up, getting in my face as much as she can and not cross the line into insubordination. "You're out of bounds, Carter." _And so are you, little girl._

I don't back down an inch. "Go talk to her nice. Woman to woman. Maybe light some scented candles, run her a bath. Just _get her in here_. _Now_." I growl, doing my best to not employ one of Gibbs' methods of getting his people to do their job without any back-talk. I may be willing to yell at her but I refuse to think about wanting to hit her for being so damn slow, so… so _Human_ about this whole goddamn mess.

About an hour later, Ty and Jaimie return with the girlfriend, a hood over her head. Jaimie sits her on a stool in the kitchen and pulls the hood off. "You scream, this tape goes back on."

Marcella asks, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

"Quiet," Jaimie warns her. I see Jaimie poke her head around the wall as I walk over to where Ty's standing by my desk so I can hand him the phone.

_"Who's this?"_ O'Neil's voice can be heard over the speaker.

Ty puts on his gruff thug voice. "I'm callin' on behalf of Darnell Wallace and the 2-8 true blue Loke nation, foo'. We got told you lookin' to do us some harm."

_"Aww, you got nothin' to worry about. It's not gonna hurt a bit, Mr. No-Name. You'll think you got tickled."_

"We'll see on that. You tell us where the bomb's at, G, or we put a nice bullet in your pretty little girlfriend's head. Marcella, right here, right now. She look _fine_ , too."

_"What the hell are you talking about?"_

"The smile off your face now, little bitch? Huh? You smilin' now, little _bitch_?"

_"What do you want?"_ I think we have his attention now.

"We wanna know where the bomb's at. Because if you don't, Marcella ain't never gonna make it back home. And before she gets to say 'what up' to Allah, she really gonna know what it's like to love a black man, you cracka boy." Jaimie brings Marcella out with the hood covering just her eyes. "This is your little boyfriend, he dyin' to hear your voice."

"Baby? Baby, is that you? I'm so scared." Marcella's voice cracks. I nod at Jaimie that that's enough. "Who are these people, what-" Jaimie begins pulling her backward. "No please don't-"

I hear Jaimie hiss, " _Quiet_!" as she marches Marcella back to the kitchen.

_"I'm telling you, man, you hurt her and I'll blow your brains out."_ Aw, the big bad leader of the Kings has a soft spot for his girlfriend. Good. That'll make this a lot easier.

Ty doesn't miss a beat, sneering at the phone. "Well then, tell us where the bomb at, G! Tit for tat, homie. Tit. For. Tat." When Ty glances at me, I nod approvingly.

_"That's not how this is gonna work, G. Okay? You give her up. And then you get the location of the device."_

"No, _I_ make the rules. _I_ tell you when you get your girl back. All right?" Suddenly my phone beeps, telling me I have a text message. I almost don't answer it when I see it's from Dean but then I figure he wouldn't risk everything on a sexy text message. When I open the message, I see it's a picture of a map with "CD'A" written on it. I show it to Ty who just shrugs.

What sounds like papers being swept off a desk in anger filters through the phone. _"You listen to me, you dumb gangster son of a bitch-"_

Ty doesn't let him finish that thought. "I know we don't got much time, which sadly for you means Marcella ain't got much time either."

_"What do you know? How do you know how much time you got?"_

"Lokes got eyes everywhere, I told you, we been doin' this for a _minute_ , man."

Jaimie pacing in the hall near the bathroom catches my attention and I stalk over to where she's standing. "Where is she?"

Jaimie frowns up at me. "She's in the bathroom. That okay?" I can't let her being angry with me deter me from getting this over with sooner rather than later.

I stifle a growl of frustration. "C D apostrophe A-" I hear the bolt on the bathroom door being undone. "-what could that mean?"

Jaimie shakes her head and shrugs. "California something, I, I don't know."

The door slowly opens and Marcella comes out of the bathroom at just that moment and I turn to her. "You hear the question?"

Marcella responds, "I don't know who you guys are or what you want from me, but I don't know anything."

I shout at her, "Did you. Hear. The question?"

She cowers against the door at her back. "I don't have a clue!" 

"Gag her!" I order, stepping closer to do just that and Marcella attempts to stab me overhand in the shoulder with a pair of scissors but I catch her arm and slam her against the wall hard enough to rattle her teeth. _Better people than you have tried to keep me from my Mate, Sweetheart._ "Pull your gun out and aim it at her head. Do it! If she doesn't stop fighting and drop the scissors in two seconds, blow her brains out." I shake Marcella's wrists, and she's obviously scared out of her goddamn mind, but she doesn't drop the scissors. "One! Two." I wait an extra second and Marcella drops the scissors with a barely audible whimper. I look at Jaimie and then stalk away, completely ignoring Marcella sinking to the floor and crying.

As I reenter the main area, I hear O'Neil yelling, _"What are you doing to her?"_

"Trying to see what she knows, since _you_ ain't bein' very helpful," Ty replies.

_"Man, she doesn't know_ anything _."_ O'Neil is still trying to convince us to let Marcella go.

"We'll see about that." Wonder if Melissa knows just how well Ty plays a thug.

Jaimie has Marcella cuffed to the chair again and I march up to her with the hood in his hand. "Please, no, please…" she begs.

Jaimie joins in to tell me, "She's claustrophobic."

I can't let that sway me. I was supposed to be fully Bonded to my Soul Mate several days ago, now, but because of her asshole of a boyfriend, it hasn't happened and is beginning to look like it won't for a while still. "Tough."

Marcella sobs, "Why are you doing this?"

I bend down close to her ear. "Because your boyfriend planted a bomb. Okay? He's planning to kill innocent people. _He_ started this. _Not_ me." I put the hood on her head and keep a grip on the top of it and inadvertently grab some hair. "CDA. C. D. A. What does it mean? C D apostrophe A! What does it mean!?" I give her head a brief shake to make sure I have her attention. Not that she can ignore me when I'm pulling her hair.

Marcella, who sounds like she's working on a very lovely panic attack, sobs, "Wait! Wait! I heard him on the phone the other day, he mentioned a street, Couer D'Alene, I don't know, is that it?"

I yank the hood off and stomp back into the main room where Ty is still on the phone with O'Neil. "What's that? Why you discussin' turf wars and heroin deals when we 'bout to cut your girl up piece by piece?" I dig a street map out of my desk and circle on the map where Couer D'Alene is and then shove the map at Ty before heading to the 'tool chest' and pulling out a shotgun. "Look, G, the homies is out searchin' Couer D'Alene right now, and if they find the bomb before you tell us where it's at, it ain't gonna be a good end for your girl. She gonna be lyin' in a pool of gasoline. You don't want that. So give up the info, right here, right now, she walks away free. If you don't, it's not a good thing. End of story, game's over."

O'Neil finally capitulates. _"It's in a brown Toyota, twenty-three oh two. It's in the trunk."_

"How much time we got?"

_"Twenty minutes."_

" _How_ much?" Ty makes him repeat it.

_"_ You got twenty minutes _!"_

I flick my head at Ty to let him know he can end the call however he wants and head back to the kitchen. "Jaimie?" I call softly, getting a glare in return. I can't afford to apologize right now. Maybe after Dean and I have a solid forty-eight hours alone, but not now. "Let her go." The anger fades a bit at my statement and she nods before uncuffing Marcella and escorting her from the loft.

In the neighborhood where the bomb has been planted, SWAT is waving the residents out of the houses. There's a lot of screaming and panicking but eventually we get everyone out.

Ty falls into step with me and asks, "How much time we got?"

I shrug. "I don't know, a minute? Maybe less?"

"I was hoping for something a little more encouraging than _that_ , Carter."

I ask one of the bomb guys running past. "Did you diffuse it?"

"Most of it," is the reply.

"What do you mean ' _most_ of it'?"

"It means it's time to get the hell out of here!" he says just seconds before the bomb explodes. I don't even flinch but Ty almost drops to the ground.

I tell Ty, "Text Dean. Tell him to grab Halsey and cut him loose. Then grab Jaimie and bust O'Neil."

Hours later, back at the office, I'm leafing through some papers on my desk and Jaimie's sitting on the floor against a file cabinet not too far away and holding a Heineken beer bottle. Halsey is free, O'Neil is dead, and Dean is taking a much-needed shower and decompressing. He'll come to me when he's calmed down and the coast is clear, because the last thing he or I want is witnesses to this long-awaited special thing we're about to do.

Jaimie says softly, "I killed that man today." I look up and take my glasses off, silently encouraging her to tell me more. "O'Neil?" I sit down in a chair facing her, leaning forward with my arms braced on my knees. "Man's trash, right down to his bone marrow. So, I, uh, I drink myself to sleep a few nights, and move on." If she hadn't done what she did, I'd be planning how to leave town with Dean.

It's thoughts of what could have happened that has my voice coming out a little roughly. "Sounds like a good plan." And one I've used many a time.

"If I'd had to kill that woman, Marcella Vasquez…" Are we on that, now?

"I made a judgment call. It worked," I remind her.

"This time," she reminds me.

"That's all that matters." Well, that and that Dean's still alive and kicking and just waiting for her to finish her pity party and leave.

Ty comes in and sets the briefcase down on a table. Jaimie gets up and walks off and I sit there chewing on my lip a little. "Three hundred and fifty K, courtesy of Venice Kings."

"Is it all there? Or did O'Neil shortchange Mr. Corona?" I can't stop the smile from crossing my face at my own little joke. "I hear drug dealers do that sometimes." I look from the briefcase back to Ty. "I wasn't planning on counting it." I know for a fact he'd never actually take any, but if he is ever tempted, I plan on covering his ass. Maybe I should speak to Dean about this. Ty's staring at me with his head tilted like he can't quite figure what I'm up to, almost as if he's afraid I'm testing him, and I just smile at him.

Dean strides into the loft as Ty's walking out and the moment Dean and I are alone I grab his lapels and pull him to me so I can attack his mouth with mine. He wraps his arms around my waist, fisting his hands in my shirt and engages my tongue in a heated battle for dominance of the kiss.

Just as we both start really getting into the kiss, the door bangs open and Ty's voice rings out, "Dudes, get a room, already."

I pull back to look at Ty over Dean's shoulder, ignoring Dean's growl of protest. "Coulda sworn you left."

"Did. Got to the corner and realized I forgot Melissa's present." Ty opens one of his desk drawers and pulls out a flat, light blue box. "She's pissed enough as it is. If I forgot this-" lifting it high, he shakes his head in a 'My ass would be so much grass' kind of way. "I'm serious about the room, guys. You both swore your personal shit wouldn't ever show up here." He doesn't even let either of us respond before he's back out the door.

Dean hadn't let go of me, although he did behave in so much as he didn't start nibbling on my neck, the whole time Ty was in the room almost as if he's afraid I'll rabbit now that the time to Turn me has arrived. As if, to coin a phrase.

The moment we're alone again, Dean shifts his hold to one of my hands and all but drags me up the stairs, closer than the elevator, and into our apartment. We step through the door and into each other's arms at the same moment.

Dean's kisses taste of a desperation I've never before witnessed in my Mate. It's as if now that the time has arrived he's letting the need to Bond bubble to the surface. His hands are likewise telegraphing the same need to my body. "Easy, Dean." I try and slow the frenzied way he's tearing at my clothes and backing me across the space to the bedroom.

"No! God, Carter, how can you be so fuckin' calm?" He growls low in his throat when he fumbles the buttons on my shirt before he takes two fistfuls of the material and pulls, ripping it open and causing buttons to go flying in every direction.

"Damnit, Dean! This is a good shirt." He just snorts and removes the tattered pieces along with my undershirt before turning his attention to my jeans. "Dean." I have to get him to slow down. I understand his urgency and feel it too, but he could seriously hurt me if he doesn't slow down. "I understand, Dean, but this isn't something that should be rushed. Don't you agree?"

He wraps his fingers around two of my belt loops and tugs me closer. "I find I can't wait. It's been too long already. God, Carter, it's been over a thousand years." His voice cracks under the strain of not throwing me to the ground and just taking what he knows is his.

"How about I take the edge off, hm?" He shakes his head and pulls me down on top of him when he tumbles backward onto the bed. "What? Dean Bendis is refusing a blowjob? Will wonders never cease?"

"Fuck me, Carter." He swallows. "Fuck me hard and then I should be able to make your Turning last as long as you want."

I grin down at him. He doesn't demand for me to fuck him hard very often but when he does he means for me to make it hurt in the best way possible. "I think I can do that. Hands and knees or flat on your back?"

"Against the wall?"

His request has my dick swelling in the tight confines of my jeans. "Fuck, Dean," I snarl, standing up and shedding the remainder of my clothes.

"That's the idea, Carter." He scrambles off the bed and starts throwing off his clothes so he can brace himself with his arms outstretched, palms flat against the wall in order to present me with a mouthwatering view of his naked ass.

"You're a slut for it, aren't you?" Taking the lube from the bedside drawer, I slick my cock, knowing he won't thank me for taking the time to prep him first. Lining up behind him, I grab his hips to hold him steady, then slam home until I'm buried balls deep. The lack of resistance tells me he had found some time somewhere during the past twenty-four hours to play with himself and the thought has my hips stuttering, pulling a moan from deep within him. "Damn, Dean, how'd you find time to play with this pretty hole of yours?"

"Went to the bathroom before it all went down. Knew this was gonna happen tonight. Didn't want you to have to-" His voice trails off on a high pitched squeal when I shift angles and nail his prostate dead on. "Fuck, Carter."

I chuckle and run my hands up and down his back, taking perverse pleasure in the tremors that are wracking his frame. Wrapping my hands over his shoulders, I ride him as hard as I can until I see stars while emptying myself inside him. Seconds later he comes with a shout, painting the wall in front of him with his come.

I collapse over his back, panting hard. "Did that do the trick?"

"Oh, yeah." He squeezes his muscles in an effort to keep my softening dick from slipping out of his ass. "I love when you fuck me like you're about to die."

"Just imagine how much better that'll be once you Turn me."

He groans and stands up straight before turning to face me so he can capture my lips in a kiss that is only slightly less urgent than the ones before. "Can we get to the main event, now?" Dean's so cute when he's whining.

I can't resist kissing the tip of his nose which causes him to softly growl, "Don't do that." He jerks his head away and then steps around me to get to the bed where he flops down on his back, legs splayed wantonly while stroking his dick which is slowly beginning to harden again.

"I love that you have a recovery period of a nanosecond," I chuckle, climbing up on the bed to stretch out on top of him, my chin resting on my hands which are stacked on his chest.

He thumps me in-between my eyes. "You look like a woman lying on me like this."

"Well, if my dreams are actual memories, I've been a woman twice."

"That right?" He tugs on my hair. "You ready for this, Carter? I mean, really ready? You're going to die, you know."

I lean up, take his face in my hands and place a kiss to his lips. "I know, Dean. You and Janet did your best to inform me of what's going to happen. I'm ready. More than, actually. Take me, Turn me, Bond with me, thuit mo."

"God, Carter," he groans, rolling us so that he's on top. 

He shifts to grab the lube from where I dropped it on the bedside table. Sitting back on his knees between my legs, he takes his time smearing some between his fingers.

Pulling my knees in toward my chest, I grasp the back of them to give him better access. "Now who's the slut, huh?" He chuckles softly and places a gentle kiss to the inside of my right thigh that is so at odds to how we're both feeling right now.

"I thought you were eager to Turn me." I do my best to goad him into going faster.

"And here I thought you were looking at your Turning and our Bonding as our wedding night. Please tell me you didn't throw Nicole to the floor and have at her on your wedding night. Carter, you should know better than that."

I do know better. My wedding night with Nicole was exactly how _she_ wanted it; slow and sweet at first then fast and furious enough to disturb the neighbors. But despite what Dean said, I think a wedding night between two guys can be hard and rough and nasty while still being full of love. "Totally different, Dean." I shift my grip. I'm not as young as I used to be and this position isn't that easy to maintain nor is it very comfortable.

Dean just smirks down at me and _finally_ begins to prep me. He doesn't take his time, thankfully, and before long he's got three fingers in my ass and is slicking his dick with his free hand. Bracing himself over me on one hand he uses his other to line himself up and press against my hole. "You sure you're ready for this?" I can see his uncertainty in his eyes.

I let go of my legs so I can wrap them around his waist and my hands around the back of his neck, linking my fingers together. "I can't begin to tell you how ready I am. It feels like I've been waiting for this, for _you_ , all my life." I tug until he lowers his head enough for me to brush a kiss across his lips. "Please don't make me wait any longer." I know I'm begging but I don't care.

Dean bows his head for a second or two and when he lifts it, my breath catches in my throat at the love shinning in his eyes. Pressing in slowly, he balances on his hands, his eyes locked with mine. "I've never done this before. Nick has been after me for years to Turn someone so that when I found you I'd know how to do it right but I wanted you to be my first."

I love the feel of him entering me but I really wish he'd move faster. "Is that why you've been on the phone so much?"

"Yeah." When he bottoms out he settles on his elbows, his hands cupping my head. "Tim and Tony have been giving me instructions since they were both able to take their time Turning their Mates."

He begins to slowly thrust in and out using long strokes and avoiding my prostate. "We're gonna do this right." His voice is rough and I can't quite suppress a shiver as it rolls over me like gravel.

Pulling his head down, I seal my mouth to his sweeping my tongue inside to tangle with his. Moving one hand up his skull to clutch the back of it, I dig the nails of the other into the skin of his left shoulder. Hooking my ankles beneath his ass, I urge him to fuck me faster, a request he doesn't seem inclined to grant judging by the way he actually _slows down_. I pull back from the kiss to gulp lungfuls of air and glare at him. He just smirks and shifts to nail my prostate causing my eyes to roll back in my head. "Dean, please!"

Dean shifts his hold from my hair to the sheets under us and _finally_ begins to fuck me like there's no tomorrow.

Eventually I can see him giving over to the Vampire side of his nature. When his eyes begin to glow a warm amber, I throw my head back, baring my throat and, using gentle pressure on the back of his skull, urge him to bite me.

With a growl so low it's almost in the sub-vocal range, Dean seals his mouth over my neck and bites down.

I've had lovers that like to bite but those were mere pinpricks when compared to the feeling of a thousand year old Vampire in the throes of blood lust biting his Mate for the first time. I let out a strangled howl, thankful that Dean has no neighbors, and my back arches off the bed as the pain pushes me over the edge and I have the best orgasm of my life.

When I am once again aware of my surroundings, I can feel Dean still lazily thrusting in and out of my ass. I can also hear him swallow as he drinks my blood.

I shiver as my mind shows me an image that until a few months ago was foreign to me; Dean drinking from a Donor. Only this time the Donor is me and he's not just feeding, he's draining me so he can Turn me.

Eventually he lifts his head and reaches for a knife that is lying on the bedside table. He slashes his right wrist, opening the vein and places it against my mouth. Wrapping both hands around his arm, one around his wrist and the other around his elbow, I suck on the gently weeping wound; the taste metallic and bitter against my tongue.

Our eyes locked, I continue to drink his blood while watching my blood drip down his chin. When he sneers I can see my blood dripping off his fangs.

Too soon, he's pulling his arm away from my mouth. I reluctantly release my grip on his arm with a whine that turns into a moan when he licks the wound closed. Then he wiggles his left hand behind my head so he can lift it enough to lean down and attack my mouth. He thrusts once, twice, three times and then stiffens as he climaxes.

Releasing my mouth, he pulls out and moves to the side so he can roll me to my right side and wrap his arms around me. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, pressing tiny kisses to my shoulders. 

It takes me longer then I would have thought to die. At first the pain is bearable enough but soon it spikes through me, arching my back, my mouth open on a silent scream of agony. Dean's arms tighten around my waist. I can feel where he has his face pressed against the back of my neck, his tears scalding on my skin.

I know he said I was going to die, that he was going to have to kill me but until now, feeling my heart begin to slow, the pain of my organs ceasing to function, my breathing becoming labored, I really hadn't stopped to consider what it would mean to actually die. Despite my objections just last month, I had no clue what it meant, how much it breaks his heart to have to inflict this on me. With my last ounce of strength, I wriggle around until I'm face to face with him. Cupping one hand around his cheek I stroke his cheekbone with my thumb. "Dean," I gasp. I'm almost out of breath. I have to let him know it'll all be just fine while I can still talk. "Dean. I'll be okay. This is what-" My body stiffens as my heart beats its last and I begin to panic when I can't draw another breath.

Everything goes dark and I lose all track of time. I have no idea if I've been unconscious for mere minutes or for over an hour. I can feel Dean's fear as if it's my own and it makes me think it's been closer to an hour or more. In his panic he rolls me to my back none too gently. "Carter! Damnit! Carter!" he shouts, his hands gripping my face painfully tight as he shakes me, trying to force a response. "Don't do this to me! Carter!" His voice breaks on my name and his anguish washes over me.

I struggle to let him know I'm still here. The heat of his hands, the desperate sound of his voice, the bright white of our Bond are beckoning but from a distance. _I can't… It's too far… I won't be able…_ I fight to remember that this is supposed to happen, that I'm not truly dead but it's difficult to not let the overwhelming sadness and despair pull me down into the never ending and uncompromising darkness. Down the path to true death. A place I've been six times before and vow to never go again.

Just as I think all is lost, an invisible hand reaches down and grabs me by the scruff of my neck and yanks me up from the depths. I break the surface and if I was still human, still _alive_ , I'd be gasping like a man who has finally surfaced after almost drowning and force my eyes open.

The first thing I see is the grief-stricken face of my Beloved Mate. "Dean," I croak.

"Oh, my God, Carter! I thought something had gone wrong. That I had fucked it up. I-" he trails off, biting his lower lip.

"It's fine. I'm fine. You did it perfectly," I reassure him and he lowers his head to rest his forehead against mine.

My arms feel like lead but I manage to find the strength to lift them and wrap them loosely around his upper back, pulling him down until he's lying flush on top of me. He buries his face in my neck and lets out the grief, anger, torment, nerves and stress of the past millennium in gut-wrenching, heart breaking sobs that leave the pillow beneath our heads soaked with his tears. 

Eventually his sobs taper off, leaving him limp from the release of all that emotion. His exhaustion becomes my own. _Damn, but this is gonna take some getting used to._

We must have dozed, or at least I did, because when I blink my eyes open next, it's obvious that some time has passed. When I roll over, I discover to my disappointment that I'm alone in the bed.

Looking around the room, I notice that my vision has a strange red tint to it, almost like I'm looking through night vision goggles.

I don't wonder where Dean has gotten to for long before the sound of the microwave closing reaches my ears. "Dean?" I call. Something sharp in my mouth causes me to hiss in pain just as Dean enters the bedroom area.

His face breaks out into a grin when he sees me. "You're awake." He apparently has developed a knack for stating the obvious. "Carter?" One eyebrow climbs his forehead. "How does the room look to you?"

Why does he want to know that? I just shake my head at him, leery of speaking until I figure out why I almost bit off my tongue a second ago. Lifting one hand to my mouth, I pull it back, expecting to see blood and am surprised to find none. I raise confused eyes to Dean's, only to find him choking back a laugh. I narrow my eyes on his face, anger building.

"You have to be the only person to wake after the transformation vamped out."

_Vamped out_? The term confuses me for a moment before I remember that's what it's called when Dean's fangs are extended. Lifting my hand to my mouth again, I gingerly feel my canines and jerk my hand away quickly when I poke my thumb with a fang. Holding my thumb up in front of me, I watch as blood wells up from the tiny hole in stunned fascination for a second before Dean is there, lifting it to his mouth to suck the drop of blood from my skin.

I just sit there on the bed, open mouthed and speechless. "Think about retracting your fangs, Carter," he instructs. "It takes time to get used to talking with them extended."

I blink a couple of times, trying to wake up enough to think properly. When I finally manage to retract them, I can't help but run my tongue across my teeth, surprised that they feel normal. Dean laughs at my reaction.

"Hate you," I hiss even as I reach for him.

"Hm," he hums, stepping closer. "Your reaction is normal. From what I've heard most Vamps bite their tongue and at least one finger, the first time they vamp out." He hands me the goblet he's holding. "Hungry, yet?"

"Starving." And I am. But it's different from any kind of hunger I've ever felt before.

I lift the goblet to my lips, then turn my head sharply away with a grimace at the horrible smell.

"You have to drink it." Dean tips the bottom of the goblet, forcing me to take a sip.

"God! It's horrible." I thrust the goblet back at him. "It tastes like ass."

"And yet you _have_ to drink it. This is how we survive, Carter." He puts the goblet back in my hand and lifts it to my lips. "Drink all of it."

I glare at him but do as he instructs, gagging on the nasty taste of the blood. "Your blood didn't taste this bad," I gasp once the goblet is empty.

"Actually, that was _your_ blood, just with my Vampire DNA added." He sets the empty goblet down on the bedside table and sits next to me on the bed. "And _that_ -" He points at the goblet. "-was cloned blood." 

"Why didn't you give me Human blood?"

"Because there's a blood shortage and the Humans need all the blood currently stored in the blood banks. So unless a Vampire has personal Donors or goes to Vamp bars, they have to make do with cloned blood. All the nutrients and none of the taste."

I chuckle at his description of the cloned blood. "Tell me I don't have to drink that nasty ass stuff often."

"You don't." He stretches out on his side. "Being Bonded has one incredible benefit. Since Bonded Vampires can feed from each other as often as they want, provided they have almost constant access to Humans or cloned blood. We can go longer in between feedings so we don't have to gag down that shit very often."

"That's good." I lean down and kiss him, pushing him over onto his back and straddling his hips. "What's next?"

"According to Tim and Tony, I need to keep you feed and warm."

"Hm. I know how you can keep me warm," I purr, reaching between us and wrapping my hand around his growing erection.

He chuckles. "Damn, but you're horny today. And no, that's not how I was instructed to keep you warm. Besides, sex doesn't raise your temperature anymore, remember? No blood pressure, no core temp."

I pout down at him. "I was hoping to feel you fucking me without holding back."

"We'll get there, promise. But for now-" He shifts me off him so he can roll from the bed. "-we raise your temp with a hot bath and warm blood." Pulling me up, he then herds me into the bathroom where steam is rising from the tub. On the floor next to the tub is a bucket that on closer inspection I see has several bags of blood submerged in the slightly murky water meaning the water is warm.

"How much do I have to drink today?" I let him manhandle me into the tub with him sitting behind me.

"As many bags as it takes to curb your hunger." He begins pouring water from his hand over my shoulder. "I want you to remember how hungry you are right now."

I shift so I can see his face. "So that I don't get this hungry again and risk hurting Humans." It's pure common sense, which is why I make it a statement and not a question.

Everything I've been told by Dean and Nick stresses that Humans are to be protected at all costs because without them we wouldn't have survived this long. They're so fragile and short-lived, and despite their tendency to irrationally hate or fear things, they're still so innocent in that short-sighted way. 

"I'm so lucky to have such a smart man as my Mate." He kisses my forehead. "Rest. Tell me when you can't stand the hunger pains any longer."

"If I have to drink that swill, I can wait a long time." He just smiles. "What?" I lean back so I can see his face better.

"The hunger is worse than the cloned blood."

I groan at that and flop back against his chest, burying my face in his neck.

Suddenly a most wonderful sent assaults my nose causing me to sit upright and has my fangs extending and my mouth watering. "You smell that?" I sniff the air and actually begin to stand up.

Dean grabs my hips and forces me to sit back down. "That's just Jaimie."

"What's she doing here?" I ignore Dean's attempts to get me to relax back against him again and continue to sniff the air.

"She has trouble writing her reports when we're all here so she comes by when she knows you're not."

I turn to blink at him. "And you're just gonna let her sit down there with her sweet smelling blood and not do anything about it?" She smells _so damn good_. I can hardly stand it.

"Have to."

"Why?" My brows lower over my nose. I may not really care if he _used to_ fuck her while feeding before we started fucking but to think he's been with her since… It has me seeing red.

"Relax, Carter. I haven't fed from her since you caught us right after I told you about me. The reason we can't go downstairs and have you feed from her is that for your first Human feeding you need someone who has been fed from more often than she has."

That's reasonable. "But, Dean! I'm hungry!" Surely he understands this.

"That's what these are for." He reaches into the bucket and pulls out a bag of blood and hands it to me.

I turn my nose up at his offering but end up taking it. "Now what?"

"Just bite into it. Your fangs are sharp enough to break the plastic."

Taking a deep breath I don't need, I plunge my fangs into the plastic bag in my hand and suck it dry. "Smelling fresh Human blood while drinking this shit makes it taste better."

"I'll keep that in mind." He takes the drained bag and tosses it in the general direction of the trash can. "Want another?"

I shake my head. I'm still hungry but I'm more tired and a bit anxious to start the Bonding process. "Can we start Bonding now?" I ask around a yawn.

Dean laughs. "I think we should take a nap first."

I think about protesting and then realize I don't really have the energy. "Yeah, probably should."

He pokes and prods me into getting out of the tub where he hands me a towel before letting the water out of the tub and drying himself.

"I can still smell Jaimie. Not sure I'll be able to sleep. It's like trying to sleep while someone is baking a pie."

"So dial back on your sense of smell," he tells me like it's that easy. When I just stare at him, he sighs and rolls his eyes. "Just like with pulling in your fangs, all you have to do is think about it."

_Right_. I close my eyes and think about not being able to smell anything outside the apartment and slowly Jaimie's smell fades. I open my eyes and look at him morosely. "She smells delicious." 

"And she is." He leads me back into the bedroom and over to the bed.

"How are we going to share her?"

He lies down on his back in the middle of the bed and tucks his hands behind his head. "We're not."

"Don't think I'm going to let you keep her to yourself, Dean. It's not fair."

He just raises one eyebrow. "That's not what I meant. Now that she and Jonathan are talking about being Turned so they can Bond, she's been marked as off-limits."

"That doesn't make sense." I climb onto the bed and curl against his right side, one leg and arm thrown over his torso and my head on his shoulder. He's not big on cuddling but he obliges me on a fairly regular basis. For a few moments at a time, at any rate.

"Jon's feeling a bit possessive right now. But then again, so's Jaimie. I haven't been allowed to feed from either of them in the four months since I introduced them."

"And until tonight you haven't fed from me. So where have you been getting your food from?"

"I've been hitting the bars pretty hard and, of course, cloned blood."

My eyes won't stay open but I refuse to let sleep claim me until I ask one more question. "Do you always fuck your Donor?"

"Not since you caught me and Jaimie the day I came out to you and you asked me not to."

His admission has me wide awake, sitting up and staring down at him open mouthed. "Really?" Why does knowing that he respected my request make me giddy?

"Yeah. My father was always faithful to my mother and he taught me that anyone worth making that kind of vow to, is worth me being faithful to."

"So were you faithful to Adair?" I'm fairly sure what his answer will be but I need to know.

"No, I wasn't. But you have to understand. Adair didn't expect faithfulness from me. He wasn't faithful either. None of the single men were. We always bedded whoever caught our fancy. Sure some of the men had their favorites but for the most part we fucked whenever and whoever we wanted until we married. Some didn't stop sleeping around even then."

It was just as I thought but for some reason knowing the truth hurts. All my life I've had memories of being madly in love with this man. Although until recently I didn't know it was him and I thought I was a woman and that those memories were just dreams.

Dean tugs me back down and tucks me along his side, running his thumb up and down my spine in a feather light touch that is just light enough to not tickle.

"Were you faithful to your wife?"

"Of course." He stops caressing my back and begins playing with my hair.

"But you said you didn't really like her."

"Doesn't matter. I stood before God and kin and promised to honor her until my dying day. And I did. With my last breath I renounced her."

And pledged himself to Adair. Dean isn't aware I remember the words he said when he thought Adair had died. "You hated her, didn't you?" Another yawn catches me unawares. There's something soothing about him playing with my hair and I find myself losing the battle with slumber.

"Hard to like someone who makes no secret she prefers other men to you, even though you're her husband."

"I'm sorry your wife was such a bitch." My limbs are getting heavy but I'm not ready to end this conversation.

Dean chuckles. "That was Adair's opinion of her, too." He buries the fingers of his right hand in my hair and pulls my head back enough to brush a kiss to my lips. "Sleep now, Carter. I promise when you wake up we'll start the Bonding. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." I wiggle a bit to get more comfortable and yawn again before closing my eyes and letting sleep claim me.

Sometime later, I wake amazed that I really don't feel all that different. Rolling over from my back to my left side, I see that Dean is still asleep and sprawled on his stomach with his face turned away from me. I seize this opportunity to engage in one of my favorite activities; looking at Dean's body. Of course, I haven't had many chances to do it lately since he's developed that annoying habit of getting out of bed before I do, but now I plan to make up for lost time, and hopefully provide incentive to get him to sleep in a little more often.

Flicking the sheet back, I allow my gaze to roam his long lean form, starting at his feet. I've never really paid much attention to someone's feet before, but today I notice how broad his are, how high his arches as well as how he has ankles that most women would kill for. From his ankles I move on to his well muscled calves and on to the back of one knee; a spot that until recently I didn't even know could be an erogenous zone. Not that long ago, Dean and I managed to spend several days with nothing better to do than learn each other's bodies. An accidental caress to the back of his knee produced a most unexpected response; it got Dean even more turned on than he was already. On from his knees to powerful thighs and then to one of my favorite parts of his body; his shapely butt. My fingers ache to grasp those gorgeous globes and pull them apart in order to bury my face between them, invading his body with my tongue, pulling cries of ecstasy from deep within him. My eyes follow the crack of his ass up to his back and up the indent of his spine to his broad shoulders and the Scottish Royal Standard tattoo on his left shoulder, then over to biceps that bulge with muscles built over centuries of wielding a heavy sword and learning all forms of hand-to-hand combat and yet I've seen them cradle a crying victim with such care it was almost enough to make me weep. 

I pull my gaze back to his shoulders and gaze at his neck. My vision begins to change as the Vampire within slowly comes to the fore. Within several seconds my vision is exactly the same as it was when I woke up earlier after Dean Turned me only this time I can see all the veins and arteries in his body. I follow the line of his neck to the back of his head. Here I give in and lean down to lick a swipe up the back of his head. Not only is my sense of sight and smell changed, but so is my sense of taste and touch. The scrape of the stubble on his head is similar to that of a cat's tongue and the taste of his skin explodes over my tongue. I can't even stop the groan of pleasure that has my eyes closing in ecstasy. He chuckles at my antics and rolls over to present me with my two most favorite parts of his body; his face and his dick which at this moment is fully erect and bobbing gently above his stomach with his movements.

My gaze locks onto what I know to be his carotid artery, knowing instinctively it's where I want to feed from. "Do it, Carter," he urges, tilting his head back. He spreads his legs in invitation. "You have to be fucking me while you feed for the Bond to take effect."

I knee his legs further apart and settle myself between them, burying myself balls deep in one thrust, then with the barest of hesitations, I lean down and seal my mouth over his neck, my fangs breaking his skin with a soft 'pop'. Pulling my fangs back just enough to allow the blood to leave the artery, but not far enough to allow his healing powers to close them, I begin to suck in much the same manner as I do when leaving a hickey. It takes about a second for his blood to begin to flow into my mouth. My eyes roll back in my head and I'm fairly certain I moan in bliss at the wonderful taste that explodes over my taste buds. The taste of his blood is sweet and intoxicating with an underlining metallic bite that tells me he didn't have any of the cloned blood earlier but doesn't tell me why there is no longer a bitter aftertaste.

The Bond flares white hot in the back of my head and I can feel what he feels. It's rather odd, feeling me fucking him from both sides as well as his emotions. From Dean I feel love, lust, want, need, happiness, contentment and joy and underneath that sadness, disgust, regret, guilt and even further down anger. Since I'm sure the anger has nothing to do with me or us, I push it aside and ignore it. I also take the negative feelings and push them away, leaving only the love, lust, want, need, happiness, contentment and joy that more than equal my own.

Eventually something tells me I've had enough so I remove my fangs from his neck and lick the wound closed to help his own healing ability.

He runs his hands roughly down my back to cup my ass cheeks, squeezing and urging me to fuck him faster. Now that I'm not concentrating on feeding from him, I can turn my attention to getting on with the business of fucking my Mate into the mattress.

Fisting my hands in the sheets on either side of his head, I lean down and suck on his tongue while thrusting in and out, slowly building up speed until the sound of my balls smacking his ass echoes through the room. It's beyond amazing being able to kiss him for as long as I want without having to stop to breathe. I can't wait to suck his dick. Over the past four months I've been working on lessening my gag reflex so I can deep-throat him like he does me.

All too soon, I feel that familiar tingle at the base of my spine telling me that I'm getting close to climaxing. I want to slow down, make this last, but I also want to hurry up and finish Bonding and that will only happen once he's fed from me and so I don't fight it, instead letting it wash over me.

I thrust deep one last time and throw my head back and howl my orgasm at the ceiling before collapsing on his chest, not even realizing that I'm breathing hard until Dean chuckles. I don't have the energy to lift my head so I just ask, "What?" between two gasped breaths.

"Your body remembers it's supposed to be panting after that orgasm even though it doesn't have to anymore."

"Hmph," I grunt, tucking my head further under his chin and groaning when my half-hard dick slips from his body.

Dean doesn't let me rest for long; rolling us so he's on top. He shifts so that he's lying between my legs. Tucking his arms under my shoulders, he buries his fingers in my hair and tilts my head so he can sink his fangs into my neck in the exact same instant he enters me.

This time the feel of his fangs breaking my skin is about as painful as the prick of a needle when giving blood. Despite having a mind-blowing orgasm just moments before, my dick takes an active interest, becoming quickly erect. 

The Bond flares as bright as the flash of a flash lamp and has my back arching sharply off the bed as I have the most intense climax of my life, something I didn't think was possibly considering I how powerful the one I had just moments before was.

After visiting the stars for the second time in such a short span, I let myself concentrate on the feelings coming from him this time. Instead of being able to feel him fucking me from both sides as well as his emotions, I can only feel his emotions. And this time all I can feel are the positive ones with an emphasis on happy and content.

After several minutes, he pulls his fangs from my neck and licks the wound closed. Shifting his hold from my hair to my face, he stares deep into my eyes and whispers my name, "Carter."

I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, holding tight and smiling, letting him feel everything I feel for him through the Bond. He returns my smile and lowers his head to rest his forehead against mine, whispering, "I love you" in English for the first time, _ever_.

I'm so stunned that he actually said it first this time that it takes me a moment to find my voice so I can respond, my tone just as soft as his, "I love you, too."

Despite the fact that Dean can now fuck me the way he has always wanted to, he settles his whole weight on me and begins thrusting almost lazily, basically just shifting his hips every now and then. For the first time since we first began fucking, I feel like we're actually making love, not just having sex.

If Dean was a woman, I'd be saying romantic drivel, maybe nibbling on the closest body part. Since neither of us likes to talk about feelings and such, we don't engage in the romantic drivel but we do nibble on each other's lips, jaw, neck and ear lobes.

I run one hand over his head and down his back while grasping an ass cheek with the other. "Please, Dean," I beg. I've waited for what feels like eternity to feel him really let go while fucking me.

He braces himself on his fists and slowly begins to increase his pace. I plant my feet and lift my hips to meet each thrust. Running my hands up his back, I marvel in the feeling of his muscles moving under his skin. Wrapping my hands around his triceps, I give myself over to having my brains fucked out by my Mate. He's slamming against me harder than he's ever done, so hard that I can hear my own teeth clacking and it's all I can do to hang on and howl. "Come for me, Carter," he growls, slipping his arms under my legs and rising up onto his knees. Always one to obey a sexual order, especially one from my Mate, I double fist my dick and soon my chest is covered in my come and the contractions of my ass are milking every last drop from Dean as well.

He collapses on top of me for just a second before rolling off to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. From somewhere, I find the strength to roll to my left and drape one leg over his. "Is it always like this?"

He rolls his head to face me. "Is what always like this? Fucking another Vamp or fucking one's Mate?"

I shrug. "Both?"

He chuckles and wraps one hand around my thigh to place it directly over his groin. "Well, I've never fucked my Mate before today but I can tell you that fucking another Vamp isn't like this very often. I think I can safely say that this was all because we're Mates. I have a feeling each time will be like this."

A yawn catches me unawares. "Is it normal for me to be so tired?"

He shrugs. "Can't say. I was almost dead when I was Turned so any fatigue I felt I attributed to that."

"Hm," I hum, scooting closer so I can rest my head on his shoulder. "Should we nap again or find something to eat?"

"Judging from how you just slurred your words there, I'm gonna say nap first." He presses a kiss to my forehead and turns so that I'm spooned up behind him.

I snake my arm under his and linking our fingers together, get as close as I can so I can place a nipping little kiss to the knot of bone at the top of his spine before allowing sleep to claim me.


	8. Chapter 8

When I wake this time, it's to find Dean draped over me like a blanket. I have a brief moment of panic at how heavy he is before my memory kicks in and I remember that's no longer an issue now that I'm a Vampire. 

Running my hands gently up Dean's sides, I marvel at the changes in my life. Just three years ago, I didn't even know who Dean Bendis was and now, I'm all but married to him.

With a snort, Dean wiggles until he's settled more fully on top of me. "That tickles," he mumbles against my neck.

I trail the tips of my fingers up his spine. "I'm starving."

"Me too." He rolls to the side. "Guess we should get dressed and go to a bar."

"Yeah, I guess…" I let my voice trail off, stretching as sensuously as I can. Dean laughs at my antics and pulls me closer. I roll on top of him, straddling his hips with his erection nestled between my ass cheeks. "But that's not all I'm hungry for."

"We really should go. We can do this later."

"Not sure I can wait." I shake my head and reach back to grasp his cock so I can impale myself on it. I hiss a bit at the burn and once fully seated, I lean forward, resting on my forearms so I can cup his head in my hands. Dean pulls me down to suck on my tongue and I once again revel in the fact that I can kiss him for as long as I want without needing to breathe. Eventually I pull back anyway because I love watching his face when he fucks me. 

My hunger has my fangs extending and I curl my lip in a sneer when I see that his eyes are vague with his arousal. "Now I understand," he murmurs, threading the fingers of one hand in my hair before using his thumb to lift my lip higher so he can run one finger from the other hand down a fang from gum to tip. "Your fascination with my fangs." He raises his gaze to mine. "I get it now."

Raising up to brace myself on my fists, I swirl my hips in a circle. With a smirk, he grabs my hips and slams up into me causing my eyes to roll back in my head. "God, Dean," I groan. Despite how amazing it feels, I find that my hunger is making it difficult to concentrate on his dick sliding in and out of my ass.

He must be able to sense my distraction through the Bond because he lets go of one hip to place his wrist to my mouth and say, "Just a quick snack, then we can finish and go have dinner."

I sink my fangs into his wrist, holding it in place with one hand wrapped around his elbow and the other around his wrist, just below his hand, and repeat how I fed from his neck earlier. Once again, the taste of his blood is like ambrosia to me and has my eyes rolling back in my head and this time I _know_ I moan long and low as the Bond flares white hot behind my eyelids. Dean doesn't even slow his frenzied fucking of my ass; if anything, he speeds up, grunting and groaning as I feed and get my ass fucked _hard_.

All too soon, he pulls his wrist away, shushing me when I whimper and try to hold on a bit longer. "You've had enough, for now." Rolling us so that he's on top, he roughly turns my chin, baring my neck. "Now it's my turn," he snarls just before sinking his fangs into my neck.

With a strangled howl, I come all over our chests, my pleasure being prolonged by his cock empting itself into my ass.

He collapses on top of me and we obviously doze off again because when I stir at him pulling out, it's evident that quite some time has passed. "Now, we _really_ must go. You need to learn how to feed." He rolls off me, and the bed, leaving me lying there sprawled on my back with one leg draped over the edge.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as he pulls his jeans up his long lean legs and over that glorious butt. He leaves them undone and walks to the closet. "Why do I need to learn to feed? I think I do pretty well for a Newborn."

He looks over his shoulder at me. "Feeding from me is different from feeding from a Human."

"Yeah, so?" I swing my left leg, scuffing my toes against the hardwood floor.

"You want to drink cloned blood forever? Because that's your only other option." I rise up to lean back on my hands and watch him pull a thermal undershirt over his head, pulling the sleeves up to his elbows. "Really, Carter. This needs to be done. _Now_." He tosses me a pair of jeans.

They land on my face, obstructing my view for just a moment. The thought of drinking that swill they call cloned blood for the rest of my existence is just disgusting and has me sitting all the way up so that they fall into my lap. "Of course I don't. That shit is nasty as all get out." Standing from the bed, I pull on my jeans, also leaving the fly undone until I can put on a shirt.

"Then get dressed." He tosses me a shirt that I snatch out of the air and then pull on, tucking the tails into my jeans and doing up the fly.

We don't say anything else as we put on socks and shoes before heading to the garage and climbing into Dean's truck and heading out to find me my first ever Donor.

Dean parks in a free lot and we walk a couple of blocks to a club that defies my expectations of what a Vampire club should look like. There's a line snaking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Dean doesn't even slow, just enters the open door behind the bouncer. 

Once inside, Dean ignores the Donors, and several Vampires, trying to catch our attention and heads for a hallway lined with peepshow booths. Only difference is that you actually get more than a 'peep' because there are no curtains in the windows. I really want to ask what the different colored lights mean but get the feeling I should wait until we're alone. He stops in front of a room at the end on our right and taps on the class with a knuckle, startling the black haired girl within into dropping her copy of _Anna Karenina_ as well as jumping to her feet before throwing open the door and hurtling herself into Dean's arms and sucking his tongue into her mouth.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean one shoulder against the wall and wait for Dean to remember I'm standing there, watching him get molested by this tiny slip of a woman.

After nearly a minute it becomes apparent he's not going to remember, so I clear my throat. Dean wraps his hands around her wrists and slowly pulls her arms from around his neck. She whimpers low in her throat but otherwise doesn't fight his ending the kiss.

Dean sets her away from him and she pouts up at him. "You need to either come to me more often, or stop coming at all."

"Why?" This whole Bond thing is taking a lot of getting used to as I can feel just how confused Dean is over her pronouncement.

"Because no one uses me for _months_ after you stop by."

"I don't understand. Surely they're not scared I'll get jealous."

She shakes her head and gives a tiny humorless chuckle. "I don't think that's the problem. I've heard some people saying that since you visit Diners so rarely, they don't want your favorites to be unavailable for you."

"Okay," Dean drawls. "That explains why they're not feeding." He tilts his head to the side. "That _is_ all they're doing, right?"

The corners of her mouth turn down in a frown. "If only," she grumbles. "No one has used me for anything in the four months since you were last here."

Dean rubs one hand over his scalp. "So you haven't been paid in _four months_!?"

"No," she stresses the word like one would with someone who's a little slow on the uptake. "The bar pays us regardless but it's not nearly as much as what we get from our Patrons."

Dean sighs and shoves one hand in his right front pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. "Here." He takes her hand and curls her fingers over the money.

"Dean! I can't take this!" She tries to shove it back at him but he refuses to take it back.

"You need it."

Her sigh is full of exasperation. "I don't _need_ your assistance, Dean. I live well below my means. Learned that lesson the hard way the first time you disappeared for several months."

"Damnit, Tracy! Why didn't you ever say something?"

She crosses her arms over her chest and settles her weight one foot. "Seriously, Dean? You're just a Patron."

"Not about me possibly helping you financially, but about you losing Patrons after I've visited."

"Oh." She lowers her head to stare at the floor. "I never thought about it."

He uses one knuckle to raise her chin so he can look her in the eye. "I've always wondered why you work here. It's obvious you're smart enough to work elsewhere."

"Maybe so, but I'd never get anywhere near the same pay."

I feel Dean's amusement over her honest answer and watch as the corner of his mouth twitches. "As long as your self-esteem doesn't suffer."

She tosses her head back, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Never. I do this for the pay, and the fact that I can do pretty much what I want in-between Patrons."

Dean heaves a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and throwing his hands up in surrender. "Fine. I'll take the damn money back. Just know," he wags a finger in her face, "if you change your mind, all you have to do is call."

"Thank you." She stands on tip-toe to kiss him again, but I put my hand in the way of her questing lips. She steps back and turns to blink at me.

Dean _finally_ remembers why we're here and introduces us. "Tracy Meyer, this is Carter Shaw. Carter, Tracy."

Tracy's face brightens upon hearing my name. "Is he…?" She doesn't finish the question, just turns to look at Dean, her hands clasped under her chin.

He ducks his head, his recent feeding allowing color to stain his cheeks in a light blush. "Yeah, that's him."

"Oh, Dean," she gushes. "He's adorable!"

Dean chokes on his laughter. "Not sure that's the word I'd use, but okay, yeah, he is kinda adorable."

She smacks him on the arm. "Why'd you wait so long to bring him in?"

"He wasn't ready until two days ago."

"Actually it was more like six days ago," I interject.

"Right. Almost forgot about the son of a bitch that almost ruined it all."

Tracy's head swivels back and forth between us like she's at a tennis match. "So, I'll be his first?"

"Yep." Dean rocks back on his heels, his hands tucked into his front pockets, looking overly pleased with himself.

"Ooh," she squeals, clapping her hands and bouncing in a very familiar way.

"You don't happen to have a sister who lives in DC, do you?"

She tilts her head, her brows pulled down in a frown of confusion. "No. I'm an only child, why?"

With a shrug, I shake my head and answer, "You just remind me of someone I met there recently."

"Who?" Dean demands.

"Abby Sciuto."

I hope I get used to feeling Dean's emotions as if they're my own soon because I'm beginning to feel a migraine coming on. "Gibbs' pet Goth?"

"You know her?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Seriously, Carter. I may not be a member of the clan, but I do know the main players and their people."

"Of course. She did act like she knew you." I'm surprised at the jealousy I feel rising within me.

The look on Dean's face is not something I can't easily identify. "For the record, I have never fed from or fucked her." There's a hint of laughter in his voice.

Of course. The whole emotion thing goes both ways. Gonna have to remember that. "Sorry." Now I feel like a heel.

The Bond is flooded with love and amusement and both are confirmed with a quick peek at Dean's face. Awkward moment is awkward.

"Smooth," Tracy observes with a barely-contained eye roll. "Give me a sec to grab you some food and we'll head to one of the rooms." She turns to walk away but then spins back. "Any preferences?"

"Female, O Positive," Dean replies, smacking her on the butt as she passes.

She tries to jump out of the way and gives a tiny squeal. "Any preference on hair color, age, body type?"

"Have you ever met me?"

"Right, sorry." They both confirm what I already knew about Dean; his only preference is that his bed partner either currently has a pulse or is now a Vampire. A slut, in other words.

Tracy disappears down another hallway for a few minutes, leaving Dean and I staring at each other. We both lunge forward at the same time but before we can get too involved in searching for each other's tonsils, Tracy returns with a pretty twenty-something brunette in tow.

"This is Amber. Amber, this is Dean and his Mate Carter. Carter was Turned just a couple of days ago and tonight's going to be his first feeding. So you're for Dean while I show Carter how it's done. Okay?"

Amber seems a bit out of place as well as extremely nervous. Ever the cop, Dean asks, "How old are you, Amber?"

"I'm twenty-one, Sir," Amber answers in a very soft voice.

"Uh-huh." I'm with Dean. She may look over twenty but her behavior says she's not.

"This club only hires Donors twenty-one and older. Trust me, Dean. She's been completely vetted," Tracy interjects a bit snippily.

Dean puts his hands up, palms out. "Alright. I believe you." He steps over to Amber and takes her hand before kissing the back of it. "Nice to meet you, Amber. How many times have you been fed from?"

"Several." Poor Amber. She's so nervous about feeding Dean that she's shaking.

"Uh-uh. That's not a number." Dean is trying to put her at ease but I think it's having the opposite effect.

Amber licks her lips. "Oh, uh, you'll be the sixth time."

"So, you've been doing this about a year, then?"

"Yes."

"Uh-uh." Dean chews on his lower lip for a second. "So, you weren't twenty-one when you were hired, were you?"

Amber and Tracy share a look, then Amber answers, "Actually, I'll be twenty-two in a few days and my hire date is a few days after that."

"You'll have to forgive my Mate," I jump in. "We're cops and he's been a Vampire a long time."

Dean cuts his eyes at me and I feel something from his end of the Bond that I can't quite identify but I take it to mean I've almost overstepped myself. I guess there's a whole new type of etiquette I'm going to have to learn and master. So I shut my mouth and give Dean a somewhat rueful nod as Dean informs the girls, "And I tend to get a bit protective of my Donors."

"Yeah, I've heard that about you, Sir." Amber's nerves seem to be calming down.

"I have a reputation, huh?" Dean doesn't seem to like hearing that.

"Of course you do," Tracy says, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Now, how about we take this somewhere private?"

Dean dips his head and begins to escort Amber down the hall, with Tracy and me following. At the end of the hall, Dean stops and holds open a door. Amber and Tracy enter first and when I go to step through the door, Dean pinches my ass before leaning down and whispering in my ear, "Remember, this ass belongs to me." As if I could forget.

I suddenly find myself in a sappy mood and realize that my soul has yearned for his for my entire life and I've never been as content as I am at this moment, knowing that from now until the end of time, I won't ever be alone again.

Entering the room, I'm struck with a sudden case of nerves. Tracy seems to pick up on it and approaches where I'm standing and takes my face in her hands so she can pull me down and seal her mouth to mine.

Instinct takes over and I wrap my hands around her waist before walking her backward toward the bed. It's been over a year since I've been with anyone other than Dean. I keep in mind that not only is she female but she's Human and so I keep the pressure of my lips just hard enough to telegraph my need but light enough to not hurt her.

My fingers fumble with the two measly little buttons charged with the herculean task of keeping her ample breasts clothed. While I'm doing that, she runs her hands down my neck, across my shoulders, down my back and around to the front in order pop the button on my fly and slowly draw the zipper down so she can reach inside and tug my erect dick out from where it's tucked into my right pants leg. I'm amazed at how hot her hand is until I remember that I no longer have a core temp so of course her hand is blistering on my sensitive cock. 

My train of thought is derailed when her other hand finds my balls and begins rolling them gently in their sack. Just like some women like having their breasts played with, I like having my balls played with. Dean has this thing he does with his tongue while sucking them…I stop that thought in its tracks because it makes me feel like I'm cheating on him.

As soon as I get her buttons undone, I slowly slide the shirt from her shoulders and cup her breasts, testing their weight, sweeping my thumbs around her nipples and then flicking them with my thumbnails, pulling a gasp from her throat that has her throwing her head back and baring her neck to my questing lips.

I kiss my way down her throat so I can nibble on her clavicle, taking care to not bite down. Now's not the time to begin feeding. We'll get there soon enough.

She swirls her thumb over the head of my dick, smearing the drop of precome found there. I'm so into the feeling of her hands on me that I'm a bit startled at the surge of arousal I feel coming from Dean. I had totally forgotten he was in the room.

Lifting my head I search out Dean, finding him lounging in a chair next to the bed with Amber sitting on his lap. Since they're both staring at where I'm standing with Tracy in my arms, I'm guessing he hasn't yet started seducing her. It's almost as if he's waiting for me to finish before he feeds.

Dean sneers at me, showing his fangs before dipping his head and licking at Amber's neck. Amber shivers with a barely audible groan, her head dropping back to rest on Dean's shoulder, her eyes closing slowly.

While I watch, Dean places his hands on her thighs, holding them in place while he spreads his legs, showing me that she's not wearing any panties under her tiny little mini skirt. Slowly, Dean runs his hands up the inside of her legs until he arrives at her pussy where he parts her lips and flicks her clit with the middle finger of his right hand before dragging that finger down to tease her opening causing Amber's hips to stutter and her breath to catch in her throat.

With one raised eyebrow, he silently tells me to get back to seducing my dinner. With a smirk, I return my attention to the beautiful woman in my arms.

My fingers find the zipper on the back of her skirt and I lower it as slowly as she lowered mine earlier, then I hook my thumbs between the silky skin of her hips and the waist of her skirt and panties and push them down her legs to the floor.

Leaving her to take care of her knee high platform boots, I strip out of my clothes, never taking my eyes off where she's arranged herself on her back on the bed; her legs spread, one knee bent with her foot flat on the mattress and her arms over her head, arching her back which causes my attention to be snagged by her ample breasts.

Licking my lips, I climb on the bed and crawl up between her legs, pushing them wider with my shoulders and place a kiss to her left inner thigh, making a mental note to come back in a couple of months so I can feed from the artery I see throbbing where I kissed her. Her taste explodes over my tongue when I tease her with the tip. She sighs and lets her legs fall open even wider. Moving slowly, I kiss a path up her body, dipping my tongue into her belly button and sucking on each nipple in turn, before reaching the spot in her neck I've picked as where I want to feed from.

Placing my mouth over her carotid, I enter her at the exact same moment I push my fangs through her skin. Pulling my fangs back, I allow her heart to pump the blood into my mouth, swallowing when I have a mouthful. I discover I can't concentrate on feeding and fucking at the same time, so decide to feed first. I can fuck her all night, once I've had my fill. Her blood is bitter sweet with a sharp metallic taste and it goes straight to my head, leaving me feeling slightly lightheaded, almost like when I would drink too much alcohol when I was Human.

Eventually, I get the feeling I've had enough so I lick the wounds closed and am a bit amazed that it takes more than one pass to fully close. Once there's no danger of her bleeding, and my hunger is temporarily satisfied, I turn my attention to fucking her pretty little brains out. I brace myself on my forearms and lazily thrust in and out, reminding myself that there's not a prostate for me to try and hit. It's just tight, wet, and indescribably hot lady-flesh gripping me like a glove.

Burying my fingers in her hair, I nibble my way along her jaw, up to one ear and across her cheek to lick my way into her mouth. Tracy stabs the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of my head and wraps the other around my right tricep. Her legs entangle with mine and she meets me thrust for thrust.

Knowing that Dean is waiting for me to finish before he feeds, I slowly increase my pace until she has to throw one hand over her head to brace it against the headboard and the sound of my balls wetly smacking her ass is punctuated by her panting breaths.

Rising up on my fists, I stare down at her, watching her breasts jiggle with the force of my thrusts. I eventually realize that despite how beautiful she is, she's not doing a damn thing for me, so I turn my head to seek out where Dean is still sitting in the chair with Amber on his lap. While I watch, he opens his mouth, extends his fangs and then lowers his head to sink his fangs into Amber's neck. The exact second his fangs pierce her skin, my hips stutter as my orgasm explodes from me and I slam into Tracy one last time. 

I throw my head back, my eyes drifting shut as a white light flashes behind my lids. I catch myself just before I collapse on her when my arms give out. Pulling out, I roll to the side, flopping over onto my back.

Over the sound of Tracy's panting I can hear Dean feeding and the wet sound of him finger fucking Amber to the accompaniment of her tiny gasps. 

Closing my eyes, I drift on the high on my first feeding. If I thought Dean's blood was addictive, I had no idea what that truly meant. I find I'm still hungry, but I'm better able to ignore it now that I've feed from a Human.

My daydream of Dean and I fucking and feeding from a roomful of beautiful men and women is interrupted by Dean shouldering my legs further apart and sliding home in my ass. Blinking my eyes open, I smile up at him. "Hi," I whisper.

"Hi." He leans down and nuzzles behind my left ear. My back arches off the bed and my dick hardens again when he sinks his fangs into my neck. This time when the Bond flares behind my eyes, I discover that Dean finds it beyond arousing watching me fuck a Donor while feeding.

All too soon, Dean pulls his fangs from my neck and licks the wound closed. I wrap my hands around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, doing my best to keep up with the frenzied pace he's set. When Dean tilts his head to the side, baring his neck, I extend my fangs and puncture his artery and suck his blood just like I did earlier when we Bonded.

I remove my fangs from his neck and use licking the wound closed as my opportunity to nibble on his ear and inadvertently discover something about my Mate I was heretofore unaware of. I already knew he loves having his ears nibbled on but I had no idea it could push him completely over the edge, taking me with him.

He rolls off me to lie on his side next to me. Trailing the fingers of his right hand through the come on my chest he then sucks it off. With a low moan, I reach up and pull him down so I can chase my taste around his mouth. Purring softly, Dean all but melts on top of me. He slips his right leg between mine, pressing his knee up against my balls.

"Are you done with us, Dean?" Tracy's laughing voice interrupts our exploration of each other's mouths.

Dean pulls back reluctantly, but doesn't go very far. His lips brush against mine when he answers Tracy's question, "Yeah, we're good." 

I expect him to return to searching for my tonsils so I'm surprised when he trails kisses down my throat to my chest, licking around my right nipple.

"Shall we send some more food?"

"Hm?" He raises his head to blow warm air across my spit wet nipple. "Oh, yeah. Send several, he's still hungry." He returns to making a snack of my nipple.

"Any particular requests?"

Dean gives a tiny growl, pulling a chuckle from me. "No. Just make sure they're able to feed a Newborn."

"You got it." With a sigh, Dean begins kissing my chest. "Male or female?"

"What the fuck, Tracy?" Dean raises his head to glare at her.

"What? Don't want to get you something you don't want."

Dean looks at me. "Would it bother you to see me with a guy?"

"Fuck no!" I run one hand down his cheek. "Adair may have had issues with you fucking your men, but I find the image extremely arousing."

The smile that crosses his face at that is just a tiny bit scary. "Make it an even mix, please," he says, once again turning his attentions to my chest.

Tracy chuckles. "He gets like that-" She waves a hand at where Dean is purring and nuzzling my chest like a cat. "-when he's full."

"Is that right?" I run one hand over his scalp, scratching lightly with my nails, which causes him to arch against my hand and purr some more.

"Yep. Man claims to hate cuddling but when he's full-" She shrugs. "There have been times I've had to poke him pretty hard in the ribs to get him to at least give me room to breathe."

"Not an issue for me," I remind her, rolling to my left side when Dean shoves on my right hip.

"Well, enjoy the giant cat masquerading as Dean while I go round you up some more food."

"You do that," I say to her retreating back.

Dean kisses up my spine until he can spoon up behind me with one of his legs between mine. I totally expect him to fuck me again but he doesn't. Instead he just nuzzles the back of my neck.

Relaxing in the loving embrace of my Bonded Soul Mate, I allow myself to drift on the edge of sleep. A small smile graces my face at the purring rumbling up from the chest behind me and at how he's bombarding me with what he's currently feeling; namely that he's content beyond imagining. 

Eventually, there's a knock at the door and Dean tightens his hold on my waist and then, with a very put upon sigh, calls out, "Enter!"

"Pardon us, Sirs," a deep masculine voice responds. "But Tracy sent us. Said there was a Newborn that needs to be fed."

"Well, come in, let us look at ya." Dean climbs over me to stand next to the bed, completely unconcerned with his nudity. While I, on the other hand, am suddenly aware that there is a small group of about a dozen strangers standing in a line as if waiting for some kind of inspection.

I roll over to my stomach in an effort to hide my nakedness from the men and women that Dean is currently giving a very thorough once-over to. He seems to be paying more attention to some than others but all of them he runs his fingers down the side of their neck right where I like to feed.

Soon enough, he seems to find them all worthy and steps back. "Who here has feed a Newborn more than once?"

A pretty young man who doesn't look a day over twenty-five, raises his hand. "Before I came here, I worked at a clinic for Vampires who were Turned Without Consent."

"They had you give No Consents their first feeding?" I can hear Dean's surprise as well as feel it. I'll be so glad when I get used to having emotions that aren't mine.

"I wasn't ever their _first_ Human feeding but I was definitely one of the first."

Dean nods. "What's your name?"

"Mark."

Dean turns to face me, his hand on Mark's shoulder. "You see that gorgeous man on the bed there?" He points at me. Mark nods. "He's my newly Turned and Bonded Mate. And you're going to feed him. And fuck him, if he wants you to."

Mark swallows loudly and turns worried eyes on Dean. "I've never topped before."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I can always fuck you," I try and reassure him.

Mark shakes his head. "Naw. I've kinda wanted to try it. Ya know, see if I'm really a bottom boy or not."

"Excellent." Dean claps him on the shoulder, giving him a tiny shove toward the bed. "There he is. Go to town and have fun."

Mark looks over his shoulder at Dean, but Dean's attention is already captured by a man who appears to be closer to my age and isn't exactly what I'd call attractive.

"Dean," I call, reaching out for Mark to pull him down next to me. "I happen to know you're still hungry." He just raises one eyebrow at me. "Don't just stand there watching me get my rocks off. There's plenty to go around. Have some fun of your own."

He settles his weight on one foot and crosses his arms over his chest. "And what if my idea of a good time is watching you get off with that pretty boy?"

I chuckle at his response. "Smart ass," I say affectionately.

"Better than a dumb ass," he replies, turning around and leading his current choice over to a couch I hadn't noticed before now on the other side of the room.

Despite what I said to him, I feel a tiny twinge of jealousy at watching him in the arms of another man. Until he begins to feed, that is. _That_ I find extremely arousing.

Mark brings his presence back to my attention by tapping on my hip and calling softly, "Sir?"

I drag my gaze from where Dean is seducing his Donor and focus on Mark. Smiling lightly, I do my best to put him at ease. Reaching out with one hand, I run a finger down his cheek. "Why don't you call me Carter? And you might as well get comfortable." I tug on the sleeve of his tee shirt.

He leans down to press a kiss to my lips, then stands from the bed and begins seductively removing his clothes. As he does so, I can't stop from licking my lips in anticipation of tasting his blood. Mark has more defined muscles than Dean but they're not over the top like a body builder. In fact he reminds me of my last male lover in looks and build. And the similarities are even more obvious when he takes off his pants. My eyes are riveted to his erection which makes my mouth water. He's longer than Dean but not any thicker. 

"You said you've never topped before. Does that include women as well as men?"

Mark nods, climbs onto the bed and straddles my thighs. "How do you want me?"

"This is good for now." I wrap one hand around the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss and the other around his cock. Swirling my thumb over the head, I smear the precome gathered there.

Pulling back from the kiss to let Mark breathe, I lick my palm and then begin to jack him, making sure he's completely hard.

When he begins to rock into my fist, I roll us until I'm on top. Straddling his thighs, I reach behind me to hold him steady so I can impale myself while nibbling my way down his neck. Once fully seated, I sit up straight, causing us both to moan deep in our throats. Taking his hands, I place one of them on my balls and the other on my dick. He fondles my balls for a bit and strokes me a few times before wrapping both hands around my hips and holding me still so he can thrust up into me.

My eyes roll back in my head as he nails my prostate dead on. "I thought you said you'd never topped before."

"I haven't," he pants.

"You must be a natural, then."

Mark chuckles. "Naw, just paid attention when I was being fucked."

"And watched lots of porn?"

"Oh, hell yeah." He tilts his head, exposing his throat and I give in to my hunger.

Leaning down, I place my mouth over his carotid and extend my fangs, piercing the thin wall of the artery and then pulling them back to allow his heart to pump the blood into my mouth. When I have a mouthful, I swallow, just like with Tracy.

As I feed, Mark moans and thrusts even harder and deeper into my ass, causing some blood to dribble from the corners of my mouth when I moan at the head of his penis scraping across my prostate. And now I know why the sheets are blood red.

After several minutes I get the feeling that I've had enough and so I run the flat of my tongue up his neck. I lick much slower than I did with Tracy, making sure the wound closes the first time.

Slipping my arms under his shoulders, I roll us so that he's on top and pull his head down so I can go searching for his tonsils.

When he pulls back to breathe, I notice that his attention keeps straying to where Dean is busy getting his ass fucked by his Donor of choice. Following his gaze, I discover that it's not as difficult as I thought it would be to watch my Mate getting fucked into the couch by a Donor. 

Dean's eyes meet mine and that's when I realize that the main reason I don't mind is because he's been flooding my end of the Bond with exactly how wonderful it feels, although not as wonderful as when it's me, and how much he gets off on seeing _me_ with a Donor.

While Mark keeps most of his focus on me and making me feel incredible, he is also keeping more than just one eye on what's happening on the other side of the room. "What's wrong?" I finally ask. "Why do you keep looking over there?"

His hips stutter, then stop. His head drops and he rests it on my shoulder. "The man fucking your Mate is my father."

_Well, isn't this fucked up?_ I think, only to find out with Mark's response to my next statement that I have no idea just _how_ fucked it is. "That doesn't really answer my question."

He sighs and shifts as if to roll off me, but I stop him with my hands on his hips. "Every time I've been fucked, he's either been present, or the one fucking me."

I know Dean's been listening to our conversation and so the confusion and flash of anger I feel from him aren't surprising. But before I can decide if we should stop and handle the fact that Mark has been possibly raped by not only Vampires, but his father, Mark looks me in the eye and says, "But that's not really why I keep looking over there. I like to try and last longer than him so I'm trying to gauge when he's going to come."

I open my mouth to tell Mark that what he just told me is illegal but the look in his eye tells me now isn't the time. So, I decide to let it pass. For now. Once this evening is over, however, I _will_ be looking into whether or not his father needs to go to jail and if there are any other people who need to accompany him.

Both Mark's father and Dean finish before we do and when Mark climaxes, he does so silently before collapsing on my chest, his breath hot against my neck as he struggles to come down from his orgasmic high.

In the barely controlled chaos of the orgy that follows, I lose track of Mark and his father but don't really take notice until much later.

Dawn is breaking when Dean and I finally usher the last of our Donors from the room and begin dressing for the trip home. "So how much does a night like this cost?" I ask, tugging my shirt over my head.

"Enough to keep the Donors very comfortable for the two months they can only be used for sex."

"I've been meaning to ask you something all night."

"Hm?" Dean hums into my mouth when he steals a kiss.

"What do the different lights mean?"

"Green means they haven't been fed from recently, yellow means they were a snack and red means they were feed from within the past two months and can only be used for sex."

"So, some Vampires come here just for sex?"

"Not just Vampires."

"But-" I begin to protest that prostitution is illegal but he talks over me.

"Prostitution isn't illegal in a Registered Vampire Diner. It costs more for a Human but if they can afford it, they can't be arrested for it."

I just shake my head. I had no idea that Vampirism was so political. But I'm quickly learning that if a Registered Vampire is involved, almost everything is legal.

"We need to talk about Mark and his father," I say, following Dean from the club and back up the street to his truck.

"The club we just left is a Registered Vampire Diner," he replies, as if that means anything to me.

"And that means, what, exactly?"

He turns to face me, regret clear on his face and heavy in the Bond. "It means we can't do anything about it."

"But Mark said he used to feed No Consents at a clinic."

"And I can almost guarantee you that the owner of this Diner owns the clinic he worked at. I told you, if it's Registered to a Vampire, it's beyond our jurisdiction."

"What about Nick's? Or The Council's?" I can't believe he's just going to ignore someone breaking the law like this. "Shouldn't we at least bring it to their attention?"

Dean looks calm, but through the Bond I can feel him start to get a little annoyed. "Carter, you're still young and don't quite know all our ways, yet, so I'm going to let this pass. Trust me when I say that no one can touch Mark's father or the man who owns this Diner."

"Tell me we won't visit that Diner again."

"Why? You don't want to give a law breaker any money?" He chuckles when I nod my head. "He doesn't get any of our money. The Donors who work the rooms are contractors. They buy the space, usually for a year, and they get to keep all the money they get."

I point out, "He still gets our money when Tracy, or any of our Donors from tonight, buys her room for the next year."

Dean actually stops in the middle of the sidewalk to take a good, long look at me. "Why is this bothering you so much? It appeared to me that Mark was fine with being fucked by his father."

"Then why were you angry when he said it?"

Dean sighs and shifts his weight. "Because I knew it would have the potential of throwing you out of the moment and I was enjoying watching him fuck you too much."

"I still can't believe that it doesn't anger you to know that man has fucked his son."

"If they were both consenting adults, they why is it any of my business?"

"Because it's illegal! Even between two adults. And from the way Mark said it, I think he was coerced into it. At the very least."

Dean steps closer and cups one cheek. "If it'll make you stop harping about it, I'll put out some feelers and see if Mark was an adult, and fully consenting, when it happened, okay?"

"Thank you," I say softly, turning my head to kiss his palm. "Now take me home and remind me to just whom I belong."

"My pleasure." His voice is a deep dark growl that sends a shiver down my skin and has images of us fucking on every flat surface in our apartment, and the loft, running through my mind.

His hand still on my cheek, he leans in and sucks my tongue into his mouth, turning us so that I'm pressed up against the side of his Land Rover. We begin rubbing against each other, our hands roaming just about everywhere. About the time he slips his hands under my shirt to play with my nipples, I hear a throat being cleared before a stern voice says, "Excuse me."

With barely audible growls, we pull back and look toward the entrance to the parking lot where a beat cop is standing with one hand on his sidearm. "Is there a problem, Officer?" Dean asks his voice still a bit rough.

"This is a public street. I'm gonna have to ask y'all to move it along."

"Of course, Officer. It's just that we're newly Bonded and he just had his first feeding at the Diner up the street."

The officer nods. "I understand, but please take it home." He gives us a look that reminds me of my seventh grade science teacher, Mrs. Niland.

"Absolutely, Officer. Have a good day and be careful out there," I say, the Lieutenant in me wanting to make sure this young officer makes it home at the end of his shift.

"Will do." He dips his head and I'm sure if he had been wearing a hat he'd have touch the brim with his fingers.

We wait until he walks on down the street before sharing one more chaste kiss and then climbing into the front seat of the truck. "I can't believe you admitted we're Vampires." Dean just shrugs. "What if he had asked to see our Registration papers?"

"He wouldn't have." Dean starts the truck and looks over his shoulder, one hand on the back of my seat, to back out of the parking lot and into traffic.

"And you know this, how?"

Dean looks at me like I've just asked the stupidest question known to man. "He didn't have a heartbeat."

"He didn't?" 

Dean just blinks at me, makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns to face front and head back to the loft. "How could you possibly have missed him not having a heartbeat?"

"Um, I was kinda distracted by someone's hand toying with my nipple."

Dean sighs and I can sense the eye roll. "I guess I need to teach you more than just how to feed."

"Do you have to teach me now?" I purr, scooting as close as I can with my seatbelt on and sliding my right hand up his right thigh.

Dean chuckles and shifts in his seat to give me better access. "Yep. I want you to listen to the sounds outside this car and find at least two Vampires."

With my hand almost to his crotch, I concentrate on the sounds around us, filtering out the sounds of traffic, people talking, singing and playing music, leaving only the sounds of hearts beating and people breathing. Dean takes exception to the fact that I stopped moving my hand, and clears his throat. With a sound of frustration, I again begin moving my hand toward the bulge in his pants. When we stop at a red light I notice that of the five people waiting for a bus, only two have heartbeats. I stretch my neck to whisper in his ear, "At the bus stop across the street; five people, only two heart beats."

One corner of Dean's mouth lifts in a smirk. "Actually, three heart beats. The woman sitting on the bench is pregnant. And judging by the strength of the heartbeats, I'd say she doesn't even know yet. But good job."

Feeling proud of myself, I bite gently on his earlobe and unzip his pants to reach inside to squeeze his erection. "Hurry home. I find I want to straddle your lap right here and fuck myself on your huge cock." Said cock jumps in my hand at my statement and I can hear Dean swallow.

Dean doesn't increase his speed, won't do to get a speeding ticket, but he does find a quicker way back home.

With a squeal of tires, he turns the corner into the parking garage underneath the loft and swings the truck into his spot in the back behind the elevator. He turns off the ignition with a sharp twist of his wrist before turning to lower the backseat, making the storage area in back big enough for us to lie down. He climbs over the seat and then reaches out and grabs handfuls of my shirt, and using his own body weight, pulls me from my seat and into the back with him.

We land with twin grunts with me on top. He uses his grip on my shirt to pull me down for a kiss. After the evening we just had, I would have thought that neither of us would be desperate for sex any time soon but, as is often the case since Dean Bendis entered my life, I'm proved wrong when my dick instantly hardens at the feel of his lips against mine and our kisses become urgent as we scramble to divest each other of our clothes.

Once full naked, we spend several enjoyable minutes just rubbing against each other like teenagers. Dean's hands travel down my back to my thighs, urging me to straddle him. "I believe you said something about fucking yourself on my cock," he says, nibbling on my jaw.

"Hm, did I say that?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, ya did. Although I think you wanted to ride my dick while I was driving down the street." And damn if I don't have a new kink now. 

"Yes, well, that would not only be illegal but dangerous."

"But still something you want to try." He knows me so well.

With a smirk, I reach behind me to hold his erection steady and with just a little bit of wiggling, manage to impale myself, hissing a bit at the burn. I know if I was still Human, I'd be beyond sore and would most definitely not be able to sit, much less let him fuck me for a while.

Thanking God that I'm _not_ still Human, I begin rocking my hips. Sitting up, I brace my feet against the floor and my hands against the ceiling and raise and lower myself, wiggling a bit so that the head of his cock scrapes over my prostate.

Dean bends his knees and places his feet flat on the floor to give him the proper leverage to thrust up into me. The force of his thrusts has my eyes rolling back in my head and has me sparing half a thought for the poor shocks and being thankful that Dean takes such good care of his vehicle. I haven't had sex in a car since I was with Nicole. I forgot how incredible it can be.

Dean wraps both hands around my dick and after just a few strokes my world explodes into a million, billion brightly colored pieces and feel the wet warmth that tells me Dean has followed me over the edge. Sitting back on my heels, I lean against Dean's upraised knees and gaze down at the body between my legs. I still have trouble believing that he loves me and that we'll be spending eternity together.

"I can hear you thinking," Dean grumbles, tugging on my hands to get me to lean forward so he can shove his tongue down my throat.

Cupping his head in my hands, I make myself comfortable using him as a mattress. The deep tonsil searching kisses taper off to nibbling little kisses and I find myself getting sappy and wanting to wax poetic about everything about him.

"Mm, as much as I'm loving this, I think we need to take this somewhere a hell of a lot more comfortable," Dean pulls back to say.

I whine in the back of my throat. "Do we have to?" I know he's right, it can't possibly be comfortable lying here with me on top of him, but damn if I don't want to move.

Dean just chuckles and pats me on the ass. "Yes, please."

With one last kiss, I climb off him and from the truck. He follows and since there's no one to see us, we just gather up our clothes and carry them upstairs. It's very odd, walking around naked in areas where I'm usually fully clothed.

Once in the elevator, Dean backs me against the wall and begins nibbling on my lips again. Despite how sore I should be, my body responds immediately. "God, Dean!" I gasp, turning my head and giving him perfect access to my earlobe. "Is it always like this?"

"Like what?" He slides one knee between my legs and rubs his hairy thigh against my balls.

"This constant need to touch you; fuck you."

"Are you complaining?"

"A bit. I realize that I heal faster than before but my dick and ass are getting sore."

He leans back to look me in the eye. "I think you're sex-drunk."

"What's that?" I pull him back down so I can nuzzle behind his left ear.

"It's something that happens, sometimes, to Newborns when they're full from their first feeding and in close proximity to their Bonded Mate."

"Does it go away?" I ask just as the elevator stops on our floor.

"Well, it does lessen over time but most Newborns who get sex-drunk during their first feeding almost always remain skin hungry for their Bonded Mate," he replies, stepping from the elevator and leading me toward the bedroom area.

"I certainly like the idea of always wanting to touch you but the constant need for sex can get to be too much, ya know?"

"Mmhm," he hums, sealing his mouth to mine and dropping the bundle of his clothes before knocking mine from my arms.

"Dean!" I stop him with a hand to the center of his chest. "As much as I love you, I think sleep would be best right now. Not to mention a shower. I stink."

"By all means, be my guest." He motions for me to enter the bathroom ahead of him.

Twisting the knobs on the tub faucet, I notice he's followed me. "Alone, please." He pouts, then scowls when it becomes obvious I'm not going to back down. "I can't keep my hands off you and I really need some sleep."

"Fine," he grumbles. He leans back against the pedestal sink where I had him fuck me just a month ago and crosses his arms and ankles.

I give him an 'I'm watching you' look and shake my head because he hasn't really left me alone, since the shower curtain is see-through. I step under the spray, lean my hands against the wall and let the water beat down on my head and shoulders. When I feel myself starting to doze, I make quick work of washing my hair and body.

My gaze locks with Dean's when I flick back the shower curtain and reach for a towel. "You know I love you, right?" Funny how those three words seemed so fucking difficult to say just months ago, well, difficult to say in English.

"Yeah." He doesn't even shift from his spot against the sink and looking in his eyes I finally get it. It's not just me that's sex-drunk. Dean, too, can't seem to get enough of touching me, fucking me and it's all my fault. My fault for making him think he wasn't enough when I freaked and ran last month. He feels like he has to keep me within reach so that he'll know I'm there, that I haven't run off again. He's seeking solace in being able to touch me and know from the feel of me under his hands that I'm still here. 

A sudden image pops into my head, like it's a memory, only I'm pretty sure it didn't happen in my lifetime: Dean, dusty and dirty and ragged and thin and _young_ , sweating and exhausted and standing solemnly over a fresh dirt pile by his parents' cottage. As _this_ Dean looks at me now I can see something of that orphaned youth in his eyes. He looks… abandoned. Alone. Nobody died this time but it's like this one little rejection, this one small insistence that we spend a little time apart makes him feel like an orphan all over again. This time, it wasn't his parents to put that look on his face again. It was me.

"Dean-" I step closer but he lowers his eyes and the moment's gone.

"You're right, Carter. It's too much at once. I'm a bit sore as well." He pushes off his perch and steps toward the tub. When he passes me, he touches the back of my right hand with one of his fingers just like we've been doing the past four months when in the company of others.

Turning my hand, I squeeze his fingers until he squeezes back and then giving my fingers a tiny shake, he drops them so he can continue on to the tub.

The moment well and truly ruined, I walk back into the bedroom and over to the bed. Flinging back the top sheet, I lie down on my back and stare up at the ceiling, my mind supplying the image of Dean naked and with water flowing down his body in an effort to get me to get up and join him.

With a growl, I roll over to my right side, putting my back to the side of the bed Dean usually sleeps on, and order my brain to shut up so I can sleep. Eventually it obeys and I slip into slumber.

________________________________________

Over the next several weeks we barely have time to speak to each other and so the issue with Mark and his father is pushed from my mind.

That is until I'm on my way to meet a target and see a young man holding up a wall across the street who reminds me of Mark. He's visibly battered and bruised and has one arm wrapped around his torso in a way that tells me he's having trouble breathing, most likely from busted ribs.

It goes against everything in me to just walk away and leave him standing there when he so clearly needs assistance but this case is almost closed and I can't risk that for a young man who has piqued my protective instincts.

So, making a mental note to send a radio car as soon as I bust the target, I continue on my way.

As luck would have it, the bust goes sideways quickly and I find myself on the other side of a conference table from a member of IA answering questions about my having to kill the target to save not only myself but my Mate and the rest of our team.

By the time IA is satisfied it was a clean kill, Mark has once again slipped from my mind.

Three weeks later, and nearly two months after I Turned, I come home to find Dean wearing a very nice suit.

Walking over to where Dean is standing next to the closet, adjusting his French cuffs, I ask, "Got a hot date?"

He looks up at me through his lashes. "Yeah and apparently my date forgot."

My brows lower in confusion for just a moment before I remember that today is my Human birthday. "God, Dean. It's been a hell of a coupla months. Give a guy a break, would ya?"

The smile that graces his face has me going weak in the knees. "I suppose you could make it up to me." His voice is a deep rumble that goes straight to my dick.

When he sidles up next to me, I finger one lapel. "Is this Armani?" I was aware that Dean has a lot of bank, but not this much.

"Yep." He shrugs, tugging on his cuffs again. "Giorgio made it for me himself."

"You know Giorgio Armani?" Dean just smirks at me. "Just how rich are you?"

"Liquid or on paper?" He turns to pull a garment bag from the closet.

"Um, both?" I move to take the bag from him only to frown when he tosses it on the end of the bed instead.

"Hm, let's see…" He wraps his hands around my hips and chews his lower lip. "I can get my hands on roughly twenty million. With stocks, bonds, property and other investments, I'm worth approximately five hundred billion."

I nearly swallow my tongue. "Five…hundred… _billion_!? With a 'B'?" He didn't really say that, did he? He can't possibly be serious. Can he really have that much money?

"Yes, Carter, billion, with a ' _B_ '. I've been around a really long time. Not hard to build up that kind of coinage considering the number of years I've been alive." He pushes my jacket from my shoulders. "Does it bother you, my being this rich?"

"Why would it bother me?" I take his hint and begin removing my clothes. "Although I do wonder why you work if you have that much money."

Dean snorts and reaches for the garment bag. "Because sitting on my ass is boring." He unzips it and pulls back the sides to reveal a suit similar in cut to his but in a lighter shade of brown; in fact it's almost cream colored. Where Dean's shirt is white with blue pinstripes and solid white cuffs and color, mine is a solid white and while Dean's tie is the color of the sand on my favorite beach, mine is ivory. "Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely. I'd much rather risk life and limb catching bad guys even though I don't need the paycheck."

"Oooh, Carter," he tsks. "Sarcasm doesn't become you." I just roll my eyes and reach for the suit. "Uh-uh." He pulls it out of my reach. "Take a shower first. There are clean boxers in the bathroom for you."

I contemplate asking him to join me but a quick look at the set of his face and I change my mind. Entering the bathroom, I find a pair of boxers on the shelf over the toilet. I pick them up and discover they're not only my size, no surprise there, but are also Armani. Dean is spoiling me and I'm not sure I want him to stop.

Stepping into the tub I take a quick shower and slip into the boxers before heading back out to the bedroom.

Walking up to where Dean's still standing, I raise one eyebrow and ask, "Armani boxers? Really?"

"Can't wear Fruit of the Loom with an Armani suit, Carter." He has a point.

When I reach for the suit again, he hands me a pair of socks. "Are these Armani, too?"

"Maybe," he hedges which tells me that they are.

"Dean," I scold.

He just shrugs. "What? It's not doing anyone any good just sitting in a bank account. So if I can't spend it on you, who _can_ I spend it on?"

I compress my lips but don't say anything, just step into the pants he hands me. When I reach for the shirt, Dean doesn't hand it over, just holds it like a jacket and waits for me to slide my arms into the sleeves. He settles it on my shoulders and smoothes any wrinkles, then steps around in front to begin doing up the buttons. 

I put my hands on his, stopping his nimble fingers. "I can dress myself, ya know."

"I know, but I want to do this for you. Let me, please?" A faint blush creeps up his neck, telling me he fed recently, and he ducks his head. 

He really wants to do this and I don't have the heart to say no to him. "Okay."

After he finishes buttoning my shirt, I tuck it in myself and do up the fly on my pants. That done, he pulls a small jewelry box out of one pocket and hands it to me. "Happy birthday, thuit mo," he says, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.

I open the box and my jaw drops at the sight of a pair of silver cuff links with my initials engraved on them lying on a bed of gauzy cotton. "I can't accept this, Dean. It's too much." I try and give the box back.

"No, it's not. It's not nearly enough." He refuses to take the box back.

"But, Dean…" I begin to protest but the look on his face stops me. "Thank you." I decide to give in on this because the man's right. With five hundred billion in the bank what does it hurt for him to spend it on me? It's not like he spends it on himself. Other than the expensive television and the clothes I can now see tucked into a back corner of the closet.

With quick efficiency, showing just how used to the finer things in life he is, including expensive clothes, he does my cuffs and then plucks the tie out of the bag. Flipping up my collar, he loops the tie around my neck. He quickly ties it in a single Windsor knot and tightens it, his fingers brushing against the underside of my chin. Stepping behind me again he holds up my jacket for me to slip into. Settling the jacket with a shrug, I tug my cuffs much like he was doing. "Shoes?" I ask when I realize I'm standing here in my socks.

"Right here." Dean leans down and picks up a pair of very nice dress shoes from under the bed.

I sit down on the end of the bed and put the shoes on, then stand and look at myself in the full length mirror. "Tell me how you managed to get the suit perfectly tailored to me."

"I know your body, Carter. And George is used to working with Vampires asking for clothes for their Mate as a surprise. All he required was for me to find a model with a similar body type."

I nod my understanding and follow him from the apartment and down to the garage where a limo is waiting.

"A limo? Really, Dean?"

"It's a special occasion, Carter. And we didn't have a proper courtship, so let me do this. Please?" He nods to the driver who's holding the rear door open.

When I hesitate, Dean nudges me with a hand in the center of my back.

With a nod, I slide inside and settle back against the seat. I turn slightly to face him when he joins me. "So where are we going?" I ask when the car begins to pull out of the garage.

"Don't worry about it." He just loves being helpful, doesn't he? "Champagne?" He lifts a bottle up from the bucket of ice it's sitting in.

"Don't really like the taste. Too dry for me."

"You've probably been drinking that cheap ass stuff." He removes the cork and pours a glass. "Try this. It's Dom Perignon Rose." Sitting back, he hands me the glass.

Taking it from his fingers, I lift it to my lips and take a sip. The bubbles explode over my tongue. Despite the hint of strawberries, it's too dry for me. Clearing my throat, I hand the glass back. "Still don't like it."

"This is a forty thousand dollar bottle of wine, Carter." He gapes at me like he can't believe I don't like it.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, Dean."

He rolls his eyes, sets the glass of champagne down and removes the stopper on a decanter of scotch. He pours a measure of the amber liquid into a glass, replaces the stopper and picks the champagne glass back up before sitting back and handing me the scotch. "Fine. Here. At least it's top shelf."

I lift the glass to my lips, effectively hiding my smile, and take a sip, my eyes closing in bliss as the whiskey burns its way down my throat. "Ah, now that's my kind of drink."

Dean rolls his eyes. "You need a little culture in your life, Carter."

"Says the guy allergic to culture," I snicker into my glass.

"What?" His voice holds more than a note of shock. "I'll have you know I'm very cultured. I have season box seats to the sympathy, ballet _and_ opera. I'm also a very large, _anonymous_ , donor to several art galleries."

"So is that where you're taking me, to the opera or ballet?" He takes my glass from me and sets it, and his glass, down on the little cabinet where the liquor is kept.

"I do believe I told you to not worry about that." He opens a door and I see a tiny fridge from which he pulls out a container that he sets on the seat between us.

"Dean?" I wait for him to look up at me. "Are you romancing me?" He just looks at me and I can't feel anything more than contentment from him. "I'm not a girl, ya know."

"Never said you were the girl, here, Carter; although, you were a girl twice before." He opens the container and I see it contains chocolate covered strawberries.

"So were you." That gets his attention.

His head snaps up and he stares at me. "What do you mean?"

"You were my wife in two of my past lives."

"Which ones?" He picks up a strawberry and holds it out for me to take a bite.

With a minor eye roll, I take a bite and say, after swallowing, "I don't remember much about one of them, but the other one I remember quite a bit and you knew me then."

"Well, duh, if I was your wife." Dean copies my eye roll.

I snicker. "I mean _you_ knew this life."

His brows lower in confusion. "That's not possible."

"You sure about that?" I lift his hand with two of my fingers and take another bite of the strawberry.

"Only life I can think of is Adair and his wife died just two years before I was born."

"And that means it's impossible that you're Adair's wife?"

"Everyone knows that a soul never returns any sooner than twenty years after the end of their most recent life."

"And why's that? Because it's never been recorded?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, Gibbs came back once every one hundred years nine times but other than that, most people only return every two to three hundred years."

"And yet you returned just two years after Elizabeth died."

He shakes his head. "That's not…" His voice trails off.

"Remember how Adair used to act around you?" He nods. "That's because he recognized your soul. He may not have realized it, but he did."

"But…how…?"

Suddenly I feel this flood of something in my head that's almost like a presence, and I know some how that it's Adair. He's fighting to crawl out of my memories and talk to Dean in person.

"You have no idea what it felt like, lad, to look into eyes I recognized the moment your mother laid you in my arms." I understand some of the words coming out of my mouth, but not all, because they're spoken in ancient Scottish Gaelic. I've been trying to learn for Dean, but it's slow going because one can't use phonics for Gaelic. "Do you understand how hard it was for me to reconcile my feelings, my _sexual_ feelings, for you with your age? I was sexually attracted to an infant, then a young child, then a young boy and then finally – _finally_ – you were a young man. The day your parents died, I was coming over to ask your father for permission to move you into my house." Dean's eyes drift closed and one tear slips from the corner of each eye. "I was then going to tell The McKinnon that I love you, that we were lovers."

"Why?" Dean's voice is whisper soft.

"Because I wanted to be selfish. I wanted you all to myself." I reach out and grab his face, brushing his tears away with my thumbs. "But when I saw you burying your parents, I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep you from having the opportunity to have the family you just lost. So I did the only thing I could. I took you with me to the castle. The only thing I regret is ignoring you for so long."

"Adair." The despair in Dean's voice is nearly my undoing and just strengthens Adair's hold.

"I love you, Dean McGillis. I'm so sorry I didn't let you know sooner." With a gentle tug, I pull him toward me so I can attack his mouth. With a little bit of fumbling, he shoves the container of strawberries from the seat and moves to straddle my hips, but I push him back and settle in his lap with my knees on either side of his thighs. "Dean," I groan, Adair slipping back just a bit before rushing forward again.

Dean's hands roam over my body, up under my shirt, down my back and back around to my front to undo my fly and tug out my erection. When his hands disappear, I pull back to see him pulling a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket. Flipping it open, he wraps it around my length and begins stroking. 

Throwing my head back, I let go of his face to dig my nails into the leather of the seat and fuck his fist. "Dean!" Much too soon, the world around me explodes and my cock empties into the handkerchief surrounding it. 

With a last couple of tiny twitches of my hips, I all but melt into Dean. A couple of seconds later, I don't so much roll to the side as slither off him until I'm slouched in my original spot. I can feel Adair still hovering but I have much more control now. Until Dean leans over and licks my dick clean, that is. The instant Dean's lips touch my groin, Adair pushes to the fore again, and he grips Dean's neck tightly with my hand. "Fuck, lad!" he hisses, my hips jerking unconsciously, trying to get more of that wicked warmth.

With one last lick, Dean sits up and runs the back of one hand across his mouth. And just like that, Adair is gone and I'm completely in control again. "You do that very often for Adair?" I can't help but ask while straightening my clothes.

Dean shakes his head, sitting back against the seat and tugging his jacket back into place. "He wouldn't let me suck him or give him a hand job very often. Of course, we didn't always have that much time. He preferred to just fuck me whenever we were alone."

"Gee, that sounds awful familiar," I quip, stifling a chuckle.

"Shut up," he replies, the smile I love, and don't see near enough of, crossing his face.

We lean in toward each other, both intent on devouring the other, but before we can even make contact, the limo comes to a stop and the door is opened. Dean sighs and rests his forehead against mine. "We're here."

"Yeah? And just where is 'here'?"

"You'll see."

"What is it with you and all these cryptic answers today?"

"Ever heard of a surprise?" I can only roll my eyes at that. While I like surprises just fine, I didn't think he'd be able to surprise me now that we've Bonded.

Dean exits the car and I follow to find him tugging on his cuffs, yet again. I make sure my own clothes are straight and as wrinkle free as they can be after sitting in the back of a limo for almost an hour, and follow him through a door that has definitely seen better days. The cop in me notices all the muscle placed unobtrusively around. Makes me wonder if they're needed very often.

On the other side of the door, is a small lobby, of sorts, with a concierge podium next to a stainless steel door set in the wall opposite the entrance. On a barstool behind the podium, is a pretty Asian girl, munching on a bowl of grapes and reading a textbook. She looks up when we enter and smiles at us. "Welcome, gentlemen. How are you this evening?"

"We're doing just fine." Dean's voice is whiskey smooth and makes the door girl blush. "We're here to celebrate a birthday."

Her face brightens and she looks back and forth between us. "Well, happy birthday!" She slides off the stool with a little bounce "I'm sorry I have to ask…" She looks apologetic and holds out her hands with just the first two fingers extended. Dean takes her right hand in his left and lifts it to his carotid and I follow suit. Satisfied that we're Vampires, she marks our hands with a stamp that says 'Vampire'.

Dean places one hand on the small of my back to lead me through the doors and into the club proper. "I am so not the girl, here, Dean," I say through gritted teeth.

Dean leans over, places his lips against my ear and whispers, "Didn't say you were. Only trying to make sure you don't get lost in the crowd." His warm breath on my ear makes a shiver skate down my spine. "I hope you don't mind that I invited a couple members of Sylum, a Mated pair, to join us. Figured I should start introducing you to your new 'family'." 

The club isn't what I expected it to be. The lights are almost too low for Humans, there is chrome everywhere which reflects what little light there is and the music is low but has a deep thrumming bass. While there are several cocktail tables, they are outnumbered by far by couches that are designed for lounging with another person lining the walls. The wall opposite the door is taken up by a bar that is a showpiece worthy of a museum. Behind the bar the bartenders are an even mix of Human and Vampire. In order to tell them apart, they wear different colored shirts, white for Human; black for Vampire. Despite the music being the type you'd hear in dance clubs, there isn't really a dance floor and there are very few people dancing. Most couples are either chatting at a table or on a couch or are engaged in activity that doesn't allow them to actually talk.

Dean leads me across the floor and up a set of stairs to the right of the bar. Upstairs is more like a lounge than a club. There are couches and seating areas all around. There is hardly any space not occupied. Just like downstairs everyone is either talking or making out or feeding.

Some of the couples greet Dean and he returns the greetings, introducing me. Sort of. When people say 'hi', he says 'hi' back and then "This is Carter" their response is "Hi, nice to meet you" I reply "Same here", then we continue on. On down the hall, to the door at the end on the right. 

And the whole way, his hand is burning me through the layers of my clothes where it's pressing lightly against the small of my back.

Dean opens the door and ushers me inside. First thing I see is a square table set elegantly for four. Standing on the other side of the table from the door, are two men; both Vampires. One man is older and is obviously a fellow officer of the law and the other is younger, with wild curly hair and a nervous nature that leads one to think he's led a rather sheltered life. The younger one also keeps sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye to the older one almost like he's seeking his approval, or making sure he's still there, despite standing so close their shoulders are touching.

"Don!" Dean exclaims, stepping forward to engulf the older of the two in a bear hug that would probably leave a Human with bruised ribs.

"Dean!" The hug is return with relish. "Great to see ya again. And in a legal place, too."

My eyebrow climbs my forehead at that. Dean never told me he'd almost been arrested by this man. "We're not gonna talk about that, right, Don?"

Don looks back and forth between Dean and me until understanding clicks. "Right. Not going to talk about that." He steps around Dean, one hand extended. "So introduce us."

"Carter, this is Don Eppes and his Bonded Mate, Charlie Eppes. Don, Charlie, this is my Bonded Mate, Carter Shaw."

I shake hands with both men, murmuring the standard greeting of "Hello, how do you do? Nice to meet you" and get it in return.

"We were just told that dinner will be a few minutes, yet," Charlie says. His voice doesn't sound as nervous and shy as I was expecting it to, given the way he's fidgeting.

"That's fine," Dean responds. "That'll give us some time to sit and talk."

Dean, once again, places his hand on the small of my back and guides me toward two couches I had failed to notice before. Don and Charlie sit down on the one they were obviously sitting on when we entered, and Dean and I take the one set at a ninety degree angle to theirs.

"So, Carter," Don begins, settling back against the cushions, one leg crossed over the other and one arm along the back of the couch, leaving his left side open for his Mate to curl into. "How'd you and Dean meet?"

Dean copies Don's posture, but I know he doesn't want me to snuggle up to him. But only because that's not who we are. Cuddling at home's one thing, in public with people I don't know very well, is something altogether different. "Well, when he heard I was putting a task force together to go deep undercover to get some of the worst of the worst criminals off the streets, he came to my office and demanded I hire him."

Don chuckles. "Sounds like our Dean." I've never been particularly jealous, but hearing him call Dean, ' _our Dean_ ' just rubs me the wrong way and I can't help but bristle at the possessive tone in his voice. "So did you feel the spark the very first time you touched?"

"I did. But I didn't think anything of it. I just thought it was a buildup of static electricity."

"Well, it _was_ a buildup of static electricity…" Charlie starts to say but Don cuts him off with a "Not now, Charlie."

Smiling slightly at the way Don treats his Mate, I place my hand high on Dean's leg, tucking my fingers between his crossed thighs with my pinky brushing against his balls. Dean chuckles softly at the extra possessive touch and the Bond is flooded with amusement. "So how'd you two meet?"

"Not so fast, Carter," Dean says. "You're not done with our story, yet."

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Fine," I grit out, causing Dean to snicker. He is so loving my frustration and I _will_ make him pay for it later. "I didn't want to hire him at first. I was married at the time and would quite often take work home. One night my wife picked up some files, one of them Dean's, and told me I should hire Dean."

"What made her say that?" Don asks.

"At the time she said he looked like someone I could trust to watch my back. I now know it's because she's a Chosen and has known Dean all her life."

"Why didn't you know that before?" Charlie this time.

"Because I didn't believe. Even when I could feel that Dean didn't have a heartbeat, I had a hard time wrapping my head around it."

"And now here we are fully Bonded." Dean's voice is the one he usually reserves for when we're alone.

"Why do I get the feeling there's a hell of a lot more to that story?" Don urges us to tell all.

"Because there is more but we don't have time for the entire thing." Dean begins playing with my hair and I have to wonder just what has gotten into my Mate tonight. He's never been the mushy type and yet this whole evening has been about seducing me, despite the fact that he's already won me over.

"Fair enough." Charlie has his head resting on Don's shoulder and Don is running his fingers through Charlie's hair. It's obviously something they do often.

Before I can ask my question again, Don tilts Charlie's face up so he can give him a kiss and one leads to two which leads to them making out.

I don't even try to stop the eye roll, turning to face Dean. "Are they newlyweds?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, that's helpful," I huff. "Seriously, Dean. Why can't I get a straight answer outta you?"

"Don and Charlie have the same last name because they're brothers." I just raise one eyebrow. "Souls tend to cluster together. Makes it easier to find your Soul Mate that way." The other eyebrow joins the first one. Now it's Dean's turn to roll his eyes when it becomes obvious that I'm not going to try and finish this for him. "While the soul is the most important, it doesn't matter if the body is the same gender or if it shares your DNA. Since Vampires can't procreate even brother/sister Mates happen. Although not as often as brother/brother or sister/sister." He pauses for the count of four then sighs. "Do I _really_ have to actually say this next part?"

"Yeah, ya do."

"Fine. Because of this, incest is a non-issue within the Vampire community. We don't get involved in Human laws even though Humans get in the middle of ours."

"That wasn't my problem, Dean. We're cops. Mark is the victim of incest. That's illegal in Human society and it's our job to uphold those laws."

"Like I said, if Mark and his father were forced to have sex by a Vampire, at a Registered Vampire club, that law doesn't apply."

"I don't agree with that."

"Well, then you're just going to have to learn how to accept it because there isn't a damn thing you can do about it."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." God, I feel like a toddler.

"But it does mean you have to keep your trap shut about it. Nick has worked very hard to make sure that Vampires retain certain rights."

"And that means that they can get away with breaking certain laws?"

"Unfortunately yes. I don't like it either but I have been around longer and I can safely say that there will always be people who will abuse it. But if we crack down on the bad guys the good guys lose their rights too and that's not fair."

"I'd be willing to lose some rights if it means kids like Mark don't have to worry about being raped by their fathers on the whim of a Vampire."

He purses his lips and nods. "But those Vampires that have been around long enough to remember it being illegal for them to even exist, won't agree with you."

"It's not the same thing!" It's not. It can't possibly be.

"And yet it is. If Registered Vampires can be persecuted for the same laws as Humans it throws us back a hundred years."

"But why should Vampires get different laws than Humans?"

"Because we live longer. Not to mention, if you make incest illegal for Vamps, Don and Charlie can't be together and breaking up a Bonded pair goes against everything it means to be a Vampire."

"But to make Humans commit incest? _That_ should be illegal!"

"He could just say that he thinks they're Soul Mates."

I can feel a headache coming and put one hand to my forehead. "We're talking in circles here."

"Yes we are. Now do you understand? Vampire politics are confusing and something I try to keep out of."

Before I can respond to that, the door opens and a pretty girl with skin the color of milk chocolate enters. "Excuse me, Sirs, but Chef sends his apologizes. There has been a minor disaster in the kitchen and dinner will be several more minutes yet." She opens the door wider and four pretty girls followed by four handsome men, enter. "He asks that you take your pick while you wait." She waves her hand in the direction of the eight people that have been sent in an effort to appease us like we're evil war lords who will get angry and start flogging people if we have to wait too long for our dinner.

A glance at the other couch shows that Don and Charlie aren't even aware that there are Donors in the room. Turning to face Dean, I find him looking at me. "Go ahead, Carter. Pick one. Or two. Hell, have all eight if ya want."

I look from Dean to the group of Donors and back. "What about you and Don and Charlie?"

Dean leans around me to look at where Don and Charlie are still wrapped around each other on the other couch. Giving an amused snort he sits back and says, "I don't think they're interested in feeding before dinner." He leans his head on one hand, the elbow propped on the arm of our couch. "And as for me-" He shrugs. "I'm not a Newborn."

"Neither am I. It's been two months since you Turned me."

He just smiles at me. "You're not a century old yet. Therefore you-" He points one finger at me. "-are a Newborn."

Hearing that, I frown at him. "It'll take that long?"

"If you keep trying to rush it, yes. Sit back, let me teach you what you need to know. You don't have to always be in control, ya know."

I know Dean has a point but I've been in charge for so long that it's difficult for me to just sit back and let someone take the lead. Heaving a sigh, I look back at the group of Donors. "Fine. Teach me how to feed without the Donor being aware."

Dean smirks, holds out one hand and says, "Take your pick."

Standing from the couch, I walk over to where the eight men and women are standing, staring at us. Looking them over, I chose a young girl who looks nervous. I glance back over my shoulder at Dean. "What do I do first?"

"First, pretend you've just met her at a club or bar and have decided to try and talk her into going home with you." It's been a long time since I've done that so I'm not quite sure how to go about that anymore. "Been a while, Carter?" I give a tiny nod. "Put your arms around her and start talking as low as you can."

"You mean whisper?" I wrap my arms around her waist. "What's your name?" I put my lips to her ear to ask in the softest whisper I can manage.

"No, Carter. Softer than that. You have to make it so that even Vampires have to strain to hear you."

I crinkle my forehead while trying to figure out how to do that. "That's not possible. Is it?" I turn to face him.

"Would I tell you to do it if it wasn't possible?"

He has a point. Turning back, I wrap my arms around her waist and again ask her name. "Mandi," she answers in a voice closer to the volume I'm sure Dean had in mind.

"Just pretend you're trying to seduce her into going home with you." Mandi starts shivering a bit more.

" _Not_. _Helping_." I turn my head and glare at my Mate who just winks at me.

Once again turning my attention back to the woman in my arms, I begin swaying from side to side slightly. She gives a little sigh, closes her eyes and wrapping her arms around my shoulders, tucks her head in the crook of my neck. I begin murmuring so softly, I can hardly hear myself and kiss along her jaw.

I place my mouth over her carotid like I'm about to give her a hickey. "Extend your fangs slowly. Biting her quickly will pull her out of the trance you've put her in."

I do as instructed; slowly extending my fangs until they puncture Mandi's skin, then pull them back and let her heart pump the blood into my mouth. Mandi is younger than any of my other Donors and her blood is much sweeter than any other. After several minutes, I lick the wound closed and place a kiss to her lips. She goes slightly limp in my arms with a breathy sigh. I can't help but deepen the kiss for just a moment; just until I feel her respond, then I pull back. She blinks at me. "I thought you were going to feed from me," she says, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"I did," I reply, smirking a bit at the way her cheeks turn pink when she realizes just how closely I'm holding her.

Dean chuckles. "You did good, Carter. If someone as nervous as her didn't feel anything, you must be a natural."

With a smirk and a shrug, I tip Mandi's chin up with one knuckle and brush a kiss to her lips. "Thank you for letting me feed from you."

"It was my pleasure, Sir," she murmurs and I get the feeling she'd drop into a curtsey if I wasn't still holding her tight against me.

"Go on, now." I send her on her way with a pat to her ass. "Make sure get something to eat and have some juice." Her blush deepens and she ducks her head and exits the room.

Turning to Dean, I cross my arms over my chest. "Now what?"

He tugs on his cuffs, I'm beginning to think he does that as a stalling tactic, and shrugs. "Feed some more? If you're still hungry, that is." He knows I am. I haven't quite learned how to block certain things, like when I'm hungry.

"Right." A quick glance at Don and Charlie shows they're still oblivious to what's happening. 

Eyeing the line of remaining Donors, I tap my finger against my pursed lips, then walk around behind them. If I'm going to practice feeding without the Donor knowing, I can't very well let them know they've been picked, right?

It takes longer than I would have thought to feed from all of them, but finally I'm no longer hungry. I escort the last of the Donors to the door just as a line of wait staff approaches each carrying a covered tray.

Dinner consists of all my favorite things; good food, good wine and excellent conversation. The conversation stays completely casual, without even a hint of something more serious.

It's nice to see Dean so relaxed and open. While Dean does laugh, he just doesn’t do it often and it's very nice to see. He has a beautiful laugh, rich and full and it just invites you to laugh right along with him. I find I can hardly take my eyes off his face all through dinner, even when Charlie grabs my attention by relating a funny story about the first time he met Dean.

I'm having such a good time, that I'm very surprised when Don says it's time to end the evening because Charlie has an early class.

Charlie pouts at his Mate, earning himself a playful slap to the butt and an admonishment to behave or he wouldn't get any dessert. That earns Don a sly look through Charlie's lashes and a promise to behave, at least until they get home.

The drive home is silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Despite how casual the evening was, I learned a lot about Dean tonight. I learned he's worth almost as much as God; loves expensive food, wine and clothes; and loves to laugh, even at himself.

Back at home, we slowly undress each other before settling down for the night and slipping into slumber.


End file.
